Millions of Americans each year sit down at a polished and pristine fast food restaurant to enjoy a greasy, cholesterol filled hamburger while experiencing what America is famed for, an unhealthy meal. Many of those Americans don’t know what they are ingesting and are ignorant about the negative effects it may cause in the future. In my opinion, the fast food business is a good business when speaking in economic terms since it is very profitable and always desired, but in ethical terms it is not a good business.
After interviewing my mother about the types of foods I loved and hated, and the memories that came along with my childhood, I could sense the happiness that resonated with her. Below is the dialogue between us.
“Holy crap! That’s good!” I said, as I swallowed the spicy and citrusy Filipino inspired Adobo chicken from the acclaimed restaurant and deli, Poulet in Berkeley. The tender and tangy chicken was generously rubbed with vinegar, garlic, and chili spices to create a combination I have never experienced before. I could taste every component impeccably and wasn’t overpowered with fieriness.
Peanut butter, seaweed, and cooking wine, are not the most harmonious ingredients when attempting to make a scrumptious dish. But if you put your thinking cap on and think outside of the box, you can come up with something that is a juxtaposition of flavors. Thai spring rolls with a spicy peanut sauce seemed to satisfy my need for something sweet, spicy, and savory. First I prepared the spicy peanut sauce, using the peanut butter portion of the assignment.
The night before my food writing class and I were about to embark on a journey to Japan Town, San Francisco, I spent my night riding the porcelain express thoroughly enjoying the stomach virus I had so welcomingly invited into my body. After I finally managed to fall asleep, before I knew it I was entering Japan Town Peace Plaza with my class, inhaling the briny and fermented scent of fish cakes and seaweed. Not the best aromas to be around when fighting a stomach virus. All I knew about Japanese food was sushi. After spending a day in the community oriented Japan Town, my perception altered instantly.
Snap! The blender’s bottom miraculously breaks off, and the scalding lava of roasted tomatillas, jalapenos, seranno chiles, and onions comes gushing out of the blender burning every inch of my hand. In shock, I know there is no hope but I still try to save the sauce. But it is too late, I look around at the green mess carpeting my entire kitchen. I scream in frustration, “God dangit!” My boyfriend Steven sprints to my aid in the kitchen and stops abruptly in confusion, “What the hell happened? Is that throw up ” he asks in astonishment. Irritated beyond belief, I evaluate the disaster zone around me and begin to have one of my famous “Melanie” moments of pouting and the refusal to listen to anyone’s consoling words.
Last Thursday, my food writing class and I had the lucky opportunity to visit the eclectic and Latin inspired Mission District of San Francisco, California. Once we arrived, we split up into two groups, and met our tour guides. A tall, lean, and goofy looking man named Quinn greeted us and immediately started the tour. We visited a plethora of different restaurants and eateries.