When someone tells a 7-year-old to eat a mound of rice with her hands, she does. She does it with a Cheshire cat grin and in spite of her disapproving mother. That 7-year-old was me on a visit to Jaipur, India with my family, when for the first time, I was denied a spoon for my plate of food.
If you’re ever rapidly fanning your mouth at the dinner table, it’s either because your meal is hot or hot. The first kind of heat can be easily controlled; just lower the cooking temperature or wait a bit before you chow down. But maybe it’s not about heat; maybe your eyes are tearing and you’re desperately seeking a refilled glass of water to soothe the burn of the Country Style Pad Thai you ordered. It’s the second case that can take a little practice to master.
Since I arrived in the beautiful city of Boston from my humble Midwest town in Central Illinois, I have been enamored by the fun finger food that is sushi. Before attending BU, my sushi experiences were limited to the occasional stop in a Japanese restaurant when my family went to a city and watching Jamie Lynn Spears eat California rolls on Nickelodeon’s “Zoey 101” when I was a kid. However, I now feel as though I am well-versed in the art that is sushi.