Process Writing

          When writing the pieces we did for the class, there was most definitely NOT a singular process I used for all of them. Each was related to food and/or travel, but each was so different than the others. For our first piece, the memoir, I had to think for about two weeks until I reached a topic. I first began thinking about different places I'd been, and how food had been part of that place...I thought of Mexico and fish tacos, I thought of Spain and the free tapas, I thought of California and Waffle House. I could think of plenty of experiences I'd had with food and new places. I even started paragraphs about a couple of them -- but none of them really took off. I was stuck for a good three or four days, and then suddenly it hit me -- how I realized food's role in my life as a result of not having it. I had completely forgotten about my Yosemite experience, because food wasn't really present for a lot of it. In terms of readers' comments on this one, it seemed like there were a few people who liked an abrupt ending and a few people who wanted more of a sound conclusion. I didn't really want to resolve the piece entirely, as I felt that seemed dishonest to the actual feel of the piece; I ended up adding a bit more, but only some of my inner thoughts about how crazy people were getting. I still wanted to end it on a tense note.
          I like starting off with strong imagery, so that's what I did for the memoir; from there, I just described the day before we got back to civilization and the tension that had built up between us. Once I finally got going, I'd say it was the fastest piece to hammer out for me. It's definitely easier to write when you're reliving the emotions that were part of the situation. The first time we did workshop for people's pieces, I was so pleasantly surprised -- I really liked that we devoted so much time to suggestions for each person, and I really got a good sense of how my pieces were being received/what needed to be changed! It was frustrating sometimes when I couldn't respond or answer questions people had, but I think not being able to defend myself made me really consider everything people were saying; it didn't matter what I meant to say, because what really mattered how the class received it. I liked that we all took the time to thoroughly read each person's draft and then made detailed comments on their blogs -- really useful!
          The perfect meal piece was a little harder for me, but I'm still not quite sure why...I guess I struggled a bit to find an over-arching theme that ran through the whole thing. I think I was trying to make it really genuine, and it ended up not being so much because I was trying too hard. I was going home that weekend, and I was really looking forward to getting out of the K bubble and having a relaxing weekend at home; I expected to have my mom's pizza one night that weekend, and then thought -- I've missed this stuff so much, why don't I just make it and eat at home for my perfect meal? I was the only one in the house while I was cooking, so including a lot of inner-thought in the piece was important. This is where I struggled in this piece, mostly because when writing it I didn't really remember a lot I had thought about...I felt like I was forcing it when I was writing, and as a result I didn't end up with enough character voice during the cooking section. My parents added a lot of that characterization, but it wasn't quite enough. The readers were especially helpful with the piece; their suggestions really helped me sharpen it up, and look for a more grounded theme throughout.

          I was probably the most worried about the restaurant review piece, but it actually ended up being the easiest for me to write! After choosing a cuisine I'd never had, I chose a restaurant, had the experience/took notes, and then the writing pretty much flowed from there. I had taken really detailed notes while at Zooroona, so the hard part was over and I could just tell people what I thought about the place. It was really fun going into a restaurant with the "reviewer" attitude -- I found myself noticing so much more, and made myself order a huge variety of many different items to get a good sense of the menu. I realized how much detail there was to notice, how much there was to write down, and I wondered how Sam Sifton could write such incredibly detailed reviews without giving away the fact that he was a food critic...I found myself jotting down notes every couple seconds, trying to include as much insight about the place that he did in his reviews.

Post-Restaurant Review

          Before going to Zooroona, my expectations were significantly changed after reading the "Culinary Tourism" excerpt; I didn't expect to find true authenticity, as I wasn't even sure if authenticity existed or what it actually was. What I did expect from my visit to Zooroona was to have a genuinely different experience, even if it meant it was only a mere resemblance of a true Middle-Eastern cuisine. I wanted to have some kind of border-crossing experience, possibly going out of my comfort zone and ordering cuisine that I wasn't familiar with in an environment I wasn't familiar with.
          My expectations for a uniquely different, border-crossing experience were met -- I could have chosen to sit at a table, like the hundreds I've sat at before, but to get a different eating experience I chose the seating option sitting on the floor that the restaurant waiter said was "traditional". Sprawled on cushions in my socks next to friends created a much more warm and relaxing feeling, and I got to experience "Middle-Eastern" cuisine (presuming it did resemble actual cuisine served in the Middle East) by ordering "traditional" items recommended by my kooky waiter. Sure, all of this could have been far from an actual Middle-Eastern experience. But it was different and outside of what I was used to, which was what I was looking for. From this experience, I'll continue to question if authenticity actually exists, and will try not to expect certain features I consider to be "authentic" from places both on study abroad in France and wherever else I travel. I don't want to an existential tourist -- I don't want to have rigid, defined expectations of an experience that must be fulfilled in order to make it positive. I want to go into every culturally different situation with a really open mind, and experience whatever that cuisine/culture is about.

Kalama-Zooroona

          At 1710 West Main in Kalamazoo, Zooroona offers a variety of dishes from Iraq, Syria, Turkey and Lebanon, and is located at the back of a strip mall, Tiffany's Plaza. It's a relatively new restaurant; the Mandwee brothers first opened "Tiffany's Wine and Spirits" shop in the same strip mall, and in late 2009, Zooroona came to sit a few stores down. Appearing small from the outside, the Middle-Eastern style restaurant is marked by a neon sign and looks to be about a third of the size of the beauty store next to it. 

          The name Zooroona means "come visit us" in Arabic, and this welcoming attitude is evident when first walking through the doors. It may look small, nothing special from the outside -- but the interior transports diners away from the shabby strip mall parking lot. Completely. As the hostess gives a warm welcome, colorful glints of light shine from all over the now seemingly cavernous room; the decorative lamps hanging from the ceiling are covered in beautiful colored glass, with intricately detailed patterns over the glass to let spots of light glimmer through. The walls glow deep red, bright blue and gold; and at the back center is a long mural depicting a dancing woman surrounded by desert sands and men playing instruments. Glittering white lights spider along the ceiling, giving the dim and seductive-looking room a bit more coziness.

          Diners have the choice of being seated at a customary Western table with chairs, or perhaps one of the "traditional" Middle-Eastern settings. If so, don't just go with the table and chairs -- chairs are lame. Chairs are overrated. Instead, choose a "traditional" table about two feet off the ground, kick off your shoes (who needs 'em?), sprawl across the colorfully decorated cushions, and order some tea. Surrounded by draping curtains and golden walls, the cozy ambience is hard to pass up.

          The drinks on Zooroona's menu look delicious -- mouth-watering blends of watermelon, mango and orange juice, or strawberries, peaches and apples, can be seen. But be careful when ordering, because chances are, diners may only get to read about the drink they've decided on.

          It's respectable that the restaurant doesn't make drinks with foods that aren't in season -- then their honesty about the freshness of the food is genuine. But when the restaurant doesn't change the menu to reflect these conditions, it can be a bit disappointing to be set on something and then find out almost none of the drinks mentioned are available. Even though sipping on a Yamal Bagdad may not be an option, the basket of pita and tray of olive oil with oregano and thyme quickly makes up for the minor disappointment.

          Aside from the mythical fruit drinks, the Shinina is an interesting beverage characterized by a mix of yoghurt, lemon and salt -- but when it comes to the Shinina, the wait staff will tell diners directly not to order it. According to the waiter, unless they enjoy the "gross" taste of bitter yoghurt mixed with spoonfuls of salt, the customer should completely avoid this item. On the other hand, they do recommend the Zohorat tea -- this tea turns out to be a wonderfully mild, herbal blend of eleven different flowers (which are still floating around in the pot) that is poured into tiny glasses with detailed gold paint. For appetizers, or "Mazza" dishes, diners might decide on the Baba Ghannouj. One of the restaurant's specialties, it is a wonderful Syrian dip of eggplant, lemon and garlic that provides a smooth and flavorful addition to the pita. It's a good deal for a mere $6, and comes in large quantities. The falafel isn't far behind either; the crunchy, crisp outside reveals a deliciously soft mix of garbanzo beans and parsley inside. The Dolmeh is for those with more of a taste towards the bitter -- grape leaves are smooth to the touch but gritty when chewing, and the lemon and vegetables wrapped inside makes the bitter leaves even stronger. While eating, diners might have their glasses filled by the manager of the restaurant -- he admits that he usually "end[s] up being the water guy" most nights.

          As appetizers run out and tea gets low, the friendly waiter will climb up once again and kneel down next to the table to get entrée orders, or "Aklaat" dishes. They recommend their chicken and beef shawermah, which ranges from $12 to $14 -- and meat eaters would be smart to listen. Hints of lemon can be detected within the creamy, smooth consistency of the beef shawermah, and the chicken shawermah is charred to perfection. Use the tahini sauce for the beef, as the sauce of sesame seeds gives a wonderful smoky flavor to the meat. 

          The Baghdad Kafta Kabob is considered a "house favorite," although tastes pretty much like a regular ground beef burger. It can be a bit dry, but the tahini sauce bumps up the quality. The Tawook, on the other hand, is charred chicken mixed delightfully with lemon, grilled peppers and onions, and has a much fresher flavor.

          The meals come in considerably large portions, but if the meal hasn't gotten the better of anyone's stomach yet, diners might consider getting dessert. Here, in addition to the drinks, there may also be items that are destined only to be read. Kanafa, a sweet traditional cheese pastry, looks like a perfect choice -- but alas! By only 6:30 in the evening, according to the waiter they may be "all out". Don't worry, because there are regular dessert items that aren't on the menu. Diners might consider the carrot cake, for example -- and no, this is most definitely not the sugar-packed cake that often is served with cream cheese. This Carrot Hallwa is indeed carrot cake -- and literally takes the form of a sweet wedge of shredded carrots. It takes a bit of getting used to, but is a really unique combination of candied lemon peel, sugary carrots and pistachio nut. Diners also might consider the date cake not offered on the menu; with a dollop of rich cream freshly whipped, diners are served a humongous slice of incredibly rich and dense cake with tantalizing pieces of date mixed in. No doubt about it, this cake is worth...however much it cost. 

          And, for a chosen few on a specific night of the week, diners may be treated to a belly-dancing performance during dinner. The lights go off, the "Arabian Nights"-esque music turns up to a level that drowns out conversation, and a woman in a flowing "bedleh" costume will come out to jangle around amidst the diners. The unexpected performance is entertaining to watch, unless customers aren't looking for a mid-dinner distraction. Although there may be a few items on the menu that need adjusting, this is a minor setback is easily overlooked by the end of the evening. And although the belly-dancing performance may be a bit overly diverting, it gives the message that the restaurant's mesmerizing lights do -- ahlan wa sehlan. You are always welcome.

Kalama-Zooroona -- Review

          At 1710 West Main in Kalamazoo, Zooroona offers a variety of dishes from Iraq, Syria, Turkey and Lebanon, and is located at the back of a strip mall, Tiffany's Plaza. Appearing small from the outside, the middle-eastern style restaurant is marked by a neon sign and looks to be about a third of the size of the beauty store next to it. It's a relatively new restaurant; the Mandwee brothers first opened "Tiffany's Wine and Spirits" shop in the same strip mall, and in late 2009, Zooroona came to sit a few stores down.

          The interesting name of the establishment means "come visit us" in Arabic, and this welcoming demeanor is evident when first walking through the doors. It may look small, nothing special from the outside -- but the interior transports you away from the shabby strip mall parking lot. Completely. As the hostess gives a warm welcome, colorful glints of light shine from all over the now seemingly cavernous room; the decorative lamps hanging from the ceiling are covered in beautiful colored glass, with intricately detailed patterns over the glass to let spots of light glimmer through. The walls glow deep red, bright blue and gold; and at the back center is a long mural depicting a dancing woman surrounded by desert sands and men playing instruments. Glittering white lights spider along the ceiling, giving the dim and exotic looking room a bit more coziness.

          You have your choice of being seated at a normal table with chairs, or if you're lucky, one of the "traditional" middle-eastern settings might be open. If so, don't just go with the regular table and chairs -- chairs are lame. Chairs are overrated. Instead, choose a "traditional" table about two feet off the ground, kick off your shoes (who needs 'em?), sprawl across the colorfully decorated cushions, and order some tea. Surrounded by draping curtains and golden walls, the cozy exoticness is hard to pass up.
          The drinks on Zooroona's menu look delicious -- mouth-watering blends of watermelon, mango and orange juice, or strawberries, peaches and apples, can be seen. But be careful when ordering, because chances are, you may only get to read about the drink you've decided on.
          It's respectable that the restaurant doesn't make drinks with foods that aren't in season -- then you know they're being honest about the freshness of the food. But when the restaurant doesn't change the menu to reflect these conditions, it can be a bit disappointing to be set on something and then find out almost none of the drinks mentioned are available. Even though you may not get your Yamal Bagdad to sip on, the basket of pita and tray of olive oil with oregano and thyme quickly makes up for the minor disappointment.

          Aside from the mythical fruit drinks, when it comes to the Shinina, the wait staff will tell you directly not to order it -- not unless you enjoy the "gross" taste of bitter yoghurt mixed with spoonfuls of salt. On the other hand, they recommend the Zohorat tea -- this tea turns out to be a wonderfully mild, herbal blend of eleven different flowers (which are still floating around in the pot) that is poured into tiny glasses with detailed gold paint. For appetizers, or "Mazza" dishes, you might decide on the Baba Ghannouj. One of the restaurant's specialties, it is a wonderful Syrian dip of eggplant, lemon and garlic that provides a smooth and flavorful addition to the pita. It's a good deal for a mere $6, and comes in large quantities. The falafel isn't far behind either; the crunchy, crisp outside reveals a deliciously soft mix of garbanzo beans and parsley inside. The Dolmeh is for those with more of a taste towards the bitter -- grape leaves are smooth to the touch but gritty when chewing, and the lemon and vegetables wrapped inside makes the bitter leaves even stronger. While you're eating, you might have your glass filled by the manager of the restaurant -- he admits that he usually "end[s] up being the water guy" most nights.

          As appetizers run out and your tea gets low, the friendly waiter will climb up once again and kneel down next to you to get your entrée orders, or "Aklaat" dishes. They recommend their chicken and beef shawermah, which ranges from $12 to $14 -- and if you are a meat eater, it would be smart to listen. Hints of lemon can be detected within the creamy, smooth consistency of the beef shawermah, and the chicken shawermah is charred to perfection. Use the tahini sauce for the beef, as the sauce of sesame seeds gives a wonderful smoky flavor to the meat. 

          The Baghdad Kafta Kabob is considered a "house favorite", although tastes pretty much like a regular ground beef burger. It can be a bit dry, but the tahini sauce bumps up the quality. The Tawook, on the other hand, has a fresher flavor, the charred chicken mixing delightfully with the lemon, grilled peppers and onions. 

          The meals come in considerably large proportions, but if the meal hasn't gotten the better of your stomach yet, you might consider getting dessert. Here, in addition to the drinks, you have to be careful what you order. The desserts may also be items that you only get to read about. You may have your mind set on the Kanafa, a sweet traditional cheese pastry dessert, but alas! By 6:30 in the evening, they may be "all out". Don't let that get you down though, because there are regular dessert items that aren't on the menu. You might consider the carrot cake, for example -- and no, this is most definitely not the carrot cake with cream cheese frosting your mom made for your birthday that one year. This Carrot Hallwa is indeed carrot cake -- and literally takes the form of a sweet wedge of shredded carrots. It takes a bit of getting used to, but is a really unique combination of candied lemon peel, sugary carrots and pistachio nut. You also might consider the date cake not offered on the menu; with a dollop of rich cream freshly whipped, this rich, dense cake is worth...however much it cost. 

          And, if you're one of the chosen few on a specific night of the week, you may be treated to a belly-dancing performance during dinner. The lights go off, the "Arabian Nights"-esque music turns up to a level that drowns out conversation, and a woman in a flowing "bedleh" costume will come out to jangle around amidst the diners. The unexpected performance is entertaining to watch, unless you're not someone looking for a mid-dinner distraction. Although it may be a bit overly diverting, the performance gives the message that the restaurant's mesmerizing lights do -- ahlan wa sehlan. You are always welcome.

The Anticipation and Expectation: Zooroona

          When first deciding upon a restaurant to review, I looked towards word of mouth for recommendations. I've relied on websites in the past to decide where to eat, which usually gives solid direction to great places, but I've also run into some questionable restaurants because of website recommendations. Don't get me wrong, Yelp and Urbanspoon are pretty good at rating. But I'll never forget the time when I followed a website recommendation and ended up at "Flat Top Grill", a restaurant in downtown Madison with an attention-getting facade -- sure, it looked nice from the outside, but when I was served burnt rice and uncooked fish (which ended up giving me food poisoning) by a rude waiter, I immediately regretted my decision. So usually I try to ask around instead of rely on internet surfers who may or may not have different ideas about what makes food edible.
          I had heard from my roommate that "Rasa Ria", "Zooroona", and "Bangkok Flavor" were close and affordable ethnic restaurants that offered wonderful selections of amazing food. I've had Indonesian and Thai food at restaurants in Madison, but I'm not familiar with Middle Eastern food; after talking to a few more people who verified the cool atmosphere and great food, I decided on Zooroona.
          Before reading Molz's chapter in "Culinary Tourism", I was expecting (or hoping) to have a really authentic experience, a window into another culture through food. Of course, Zooroona advertises its "AUTHENTIC Middle Eastern cuisine". I wanted to experience as much of this authenticity as possible -- and after reading the chapter, I realize that true "authenticity" really doesn't exist. All I am hoping/expecting now is that I have a uniquely different eating experience, and that I do end up crossing some kind of border in entering a "Middle Eastern" restaurant. I know that it may not be "authentic", whatever that means, but I do expect to have an experience that really, really differs from what I'm familiar with. The only experience I've had with Middle Eastern food was when I was about 12 years old; my family and I went to an Ethiopian restaurant, where we were seated on the ground around a long, low table. We shared multiple dishes, dipping bread into each while we passed all of them around. On Zooroona's website, there is no specification as to which region of the Middle East the cuisine is based on, and I don't really remember what the Ethiopian food tasted like; I have no expectations about what the food will taste like, but I want to try as many dishes as possible that are totally strange to me.
          I have a pretty open mind when it comes to food, and I love trying new stuff. I'm excited to try Middle Eastern and see what kind of experience I come away with!

Home and the "Perfect" Meal - Final

            Believe it or not, I hated pizza until freshman year of high school. I mean, I really loathed the stuff. I had been subject only to post-soccer game meals of Pizza Hut, or the typical thick, greasy cheese of middle school birthday party pizza. It was so widely loved by everybody that I was determined to keep giving it a shot, but it wasn’t until my mom went to Italy that pizza actually became my idea of a perfect meal. During the summer before my freshman year of high school, my mom was the manager of the University of Wisconsin men’s basketball team, and she was flown to Florence, Italy, for a tournament along with the whole team. She returned two weeks later with touristy souvenir key chains and some great pictures she had taken of herself (seeing as my mom doesn’t fully understand the concept of self-pictures, most of them included slanted shots of half her forehead next to a mountain or two). But she also brought back something with her that would become a family tradition – a new recipe for “pizza margherita” that she had procured while visiting a small town in southern Italy.

Watching my mom make pizza margherita for the first time, I had my doubts. After making the dough, she cut hunks of mozzarella and chopped some tomatoes. She minced garlic in what I believed to be an expertly fashion. And then she put the four-ingredient product in the oven -- wait a second. That was it? There were so many empty spaces that I was sure we'd be eating straight dough with a few bites of mozzarella here, and a stray tomato there. My 14-year-old opinion? Way too simple to taste like anything at all. After pulling the pizza from the oven my mom sprinkled some basil and olive oil on and pronounced it “Finito!” I prepared my fake "holy-cow-this-is-GREAT!" face and took a bite. First I could taste the strong clash of the garlic and basil, then the tomatoes spiced with oregano, and finally the melted mozzarella – it tasted nothing like birthday party pizza, and I immediately loved it. Apparently this was a sentiment shared by all, because after that first pizza margherita, my family made it a tradition to have it for dinner every Sunday night.

Even now as a college student with a limited budget, I defy the ordinary and can’t stand pizza loaded with toppings. I prefer the thin-crusted simplicity, the perfect combination of the few ingredients in the pizza margherita my mom made during my high school years. I journeyed home to Madison, Wisconsin, this past weekend to make the pizza I’ve been missing while in Kalamazoo.

When contemplating where to obtain the ingredients for my meal, I was fortunate enough to have many different options of local food co-ops available to me. Madison is a pretty progressive city in terms of food sustainability and locally grown products. After reading Pollan’s “The Omnivore’s Dilemma”, I was convinced that in the middle of February a co-op with locally grown food was the route to take. Pollan wasn’t the only one to encourage me to buy locally -- my family is pretty typically Madisonian, in that my parents have always been obsessed with knowing exactly where their food comes from, how local it is, and what went into it. They actually still buy “raw” milk, which means it’s basically straight from the udder into a glass jar, from a friend’s farm about 20 minutes away. They get to regularly visit the cows that give them their milk and that eventually become their meat, and also meet and greet the rampant chickens that give them their eggs. All in all, I’d say they’re pretty food-conscious people – and this definitely made me a bit more food-conscious along the way.

The recipe for the pizza I was attempting to make required some items that were out of season, so on this point I had to be okay with buying more “industrial organic” stuff. Defying the usual horribly depressing, biting cold wind of Wisconsin winters, the Saturday afternoon on which I walked to buy ingredients was a sunny and pleasant day. In my usual ignorant excitement about sudden warm weather -- which turned out to be a mere 44 degrees -- I decided to wear only a tank top and pajama pants. Luckily, the walk was only ten minutes to the Regent Market Co-op and my stupidity was short-lasted. Shivering, I pulled open the door to the co-op and headed down one of the three narrow aisles to the veggies. I picked out five plump roma tomatoes, and then found the door that housed the cheeses. I grabbed a soft hunk of mozzarella, found a small plastic container of “organic” basil leaves…and I was done! We had all the ingredients for the dough at my house, along with olive oil and garlic, so I made my way to the register. I immediately recognized the gangly guy as I put my items on the counter; he had been a couple years behind me in high school. When I handed my money to him I contemplated awkwardly saying something – but before I could he thrust my food items across the counter at me, whipped around to face the shelves behind him, and picked up where he left off on his quest to find the perfect arrangement of Women’s Hormonal Teas and organic coffees.

I planned on making the actual meal around eight that night, as my parents had a costume party to go to – yes, that is correct. I was the designated driver for my parents who were going to a party, while I stayed home and cooked dinner. The costume theme was “wigs and falsies”, so in the end my parents left the house looking like some kind of seductive leopard woman, and a blond wearing a padded football uniform. After I ushered them into the privacy of the car as quickly as possible, I dropped them off and then headed back home to start on my meal.

Thelonius Monk was always a good music choice in terms of cooking – I’ve been a piano player since I was five, and just the sound of it relaxes me – so I cranked up the kitchen CD player and started on the dough. I mixed flour, yeast, oil, salt, and warm water together with my hands and then separated the thick dough into three small segments. Alright. So far, so good. Stretching the dough to make the crust was always the most annoying part; whenever I’d stretch it out into a circular shape, it would immediately recoil back into a small clump when I let go of it. After working for about five minutes on each segment, I had three somewhat normal-looking, thin circles of dough. I slid the knife easily through the hunk of mozzarella, cutting thick disks of the soft white cheese that were about the size of small hockey pucks. I carefully placed about three or four on each pizza, and moved on to dice the roma tomatoes.

I grabbed a clove of garlic from the basket hanging above the sink and chopped it up along with the tomatoes. The juices from the tomatoes combined with the overpowering scent of garlic filled the entire kitchen, and a feeling of complete relaxation flooded over me. I had missed this smell, missed surprisingly the solitude of cooking with only the sound of a piano to accompany my thoughts. I sprinkled the tomatoes and garlic evenly over the three pizzas; I wanted these to look careless, like I hadn’t spent the five minutes that I did trying to place the tomatoes and cheese in perfect, evenly spread spots. I wanted the tomatoes to look carefree, the garlic to look lazily perfect, and the cheese to look like it didn’t give a damn while still appearing immaculately simple.

One by one, I transferred the pizzas into the oven, taking them out when the mozzarella started bubbling on top of the thin browning crust. When all the pizzas were finished, I sprinkled olive oil and salt on top of the cooked mozzarella, garlic and tomato, and finished them off by chopping up a few basil leaves and adding spurts of green all over each pizza. My mom likes adding oregano to her pizzas, but I prefer keeping it extremely simple. I added only crushed red pepper flakes to spice them up a bit. Glancing at the clock, I saw that 8:30 had come and gone – I was supposed to pick up the parents twenty minutes ago. I grabbed the car keys and ran out the back door, using my flour-covered apron as a jacket.

            About fifteen minutes later, I returned home about fifteen minutes later with two slightly inebriated, hungry parents who were still singing their rendition of “Dancing In the Dark”. I poured glasses of only the finest two-buck-chuck white wine from a box, they plopped themselves down at the kitchen counter, and we dug in. The crust was thin and crunchy, maybe a bit too burned on some edges...but the mixture of the mozzarella, garlic, tomato and basil was -- for lack of a better word -- amazing. Nothing too complicated, just like my mom made it -- and personally, I liked it with just the spice of the red pepper flakes.
            My mom and dad, still in costume, kept exclaiming how amazing it was – I’m not sure if that was genuine, the tipsiness talking, or their attempt to make me feel good about making a meal on my own. I prefer to believe they just really liked it, no matter how many times they had had it. The pizza was gone in a matter of minutes, but we stayed standing in the kitchen for another half hour, laughing at the award they had won for weirdest looking couple at the party. As I cleared the table and started on the dishes, which were only a few, my parents began a game of Scrabble (again, still in costume). I know there aren’t many people who love hanging out with their parents, but I always had. I scrubbed the plates clean of oil, and listened to my parents argue loudly over whether or not “jorp” was a word, smiling as I absentmindedly pushed replay on the CD player. I had missed Thelonius Monk, and my weird parents, and simplicity of pizza and home. An ordinary night. And it was so good to be here.

Culinary Tourism

          When I first started on Lucy Long's chapter of "Culinary Tourism", I thought I'd be in for a relatively dry, in depth look at the mechanics of food marketing in the tourism industry. It started a bit slow for me, but surprisingly I got into the reading after a few minutes -- sure, some sections were slower than others, mostly because of long definitions and lack of voice. But for the most part, I enjoyed reading both Long and Molz's chapters. Long really went into all the different domains that the use of food in tourism encompasses, one of the main questions being how exactly tourism has shaped the meanings of certain foods in communities. This reminded me of the discussion we had after Emily's CYOA about foods cities are known for; I feel that Long's point rings true here, that tourism marketing can definitely overshadow true culture and instead place value on something that shows little about the actual community. In addition, specific foods that may be a huge part of a culture's identity may eventually become part of the tourism industry, which may cause that food to lose some of its original meaning to the culture.
         I definitely think that we are creators of our own experiences. What we experience in touring a place is completely affected by our perception, our expectation, and our attitude towards that place. We can't help but look at everything in a foreign place with a different eye; when I traveled to Spain with my family, I remember that I had a running list of comparisons in my head, constantly paying attention to the contrast between this new place and the familiarity of my home in Madison. This idea that we're creators of our experience also reminded me of when we were talking about food reviewing; Long says that "food is more than the dishes we eat". It's not just what's on the plate, but the atmosphere, feeling, the entire experience that comes with that food.
          I thought Long's ideas about the "exotic" were interesting as well, and that what may be exotic to me may be totally and completely familiar to another person. The exotic lures us to certain things, certain foods and products companies sell. By emphasizing the exotic, companies can interest the adventurers and risk-takers; at the same time, they can also appeal to the home-bodies who love familiarity by emphasizing how local or "old-fashioned" something is.
          Molz's chapter was more interesting to read for me than Long's; I liked that she picked a specific cuisine to show her point, instead of making generalizations about ethnic foods. I felt almost guilty when I started reading -- with my experience in food reviewing, I am indeed hoping to experience another culture by going only a few minutes away from Kalamazoo College's campus. Before reading the chapter, I was hoping to find true authenticity at my restaurant...I am endeavoring to be a tourist without going anywhere outside of Midwestern city I live in. After reading about "staged authenticity", I know now that the restaurant I go to (Thai was actually on my list) will be merely a representation of that culture instead of the real deal. The restaurant may claim authenticity all over the menu, the decorations on the walls, and the people serving the meals, but in actuality the restaurant I go to will most likely reflect some American expectation of that culture. In Molz's opinion, you have to experience the culture first-hand to actually experience any authenticity.