Cross-cultural – Page 14 – Goldfish Odyssey

This entry is part 17 of 28 in the series Goldfish

Are tomatoes fruits or vegetables? Fruits, if you ask me.

Dad was a sloppy eater. Every time he allowed juice or broth to dribble onto his shirt, mom would start comparing him with me. According to mom, I had great intuition in keeping my hands and clothes neat, no matter what I was eating.

For some reason, I loved tomatoes. And, somehow, as a toddler, I figured out a way to suck out the juice then nibbled on the pulp. Mom would take me to the market; buy me a big tomato from the fruit stand near the entrance and leave me there in the stroller. Since the market was always crowded and the paths were narrow, leaving me outside would save mom lots of time. The vendors knew us and would keep an eye on me. The all-consuming task of finishing off the big fruit would keep me occupied during mom’s brief absence. One day, a neighbor saw me by the fruit stand alone. Not sure if mom had forgotten me, she decided to take me home. THAT was the end of me eating tomatoes alone at the market.

Tomatoes are called 蕃茄 or 西紅柿 in Chinese. The word “蕃” derives from “番,” which means “foreign.” The top component of the character (radical) “⺾” refers to “plants, herbs, vegetation.” “西” means “west.” “紅柿” describes its similarity to “red persimmon” in color and shape. Clearly, they were introduced to China from the “West.” Today, they are essential in Chinese food cultural.

“Candied-plum-filled cherry tomatoes” 蜜餞蕃茄 are ubiquitous in Taiwanese markets.^[1] Sometimes, they are skewered on bamboo sticks. In southern Taiwan, beefsteak tomatoes are often sliced and serve with a mixture of soy sauce, sugar and minced ginger. Born and raised in northern Taiwan, I haven’t had the fortune to taste these “savory” sweet tomatoes.

蕃茄炒蛋 (stir-fried tomatoes and eggs) is a staple in Chinese home cooking. Just like Italian cooks with tiramisù, everyone has his/her own best way to make 蕃茄炒蛋. Stir-fry the sliced tomatoes first vs frying the eggs first. Adding thinly sliced scallions with the tomatoes. . . Adding the scallions to the eggs. . . The variations are endless.

So, fruits? Or, vegetables?

^[1]Cherry Tomatoes with Prunes

This entry is part 16 of 28 in the series Goldfish

あのね Pronunciation: [anone] ah-no-neh

Familiar language; female term; interjection
Meanings: well, I know what, tell you what, just a minute, hold on, . . .

I was a baby in a hurry to join the grownup world. I started crawling, walking and mimicking sounds early. “Mama” and “Baba” might have been part of my vocabulary already, when I learned a versatile word あのね.

Mom had to run some errands and left me in the care of Mrs. Chiu, a dear family friend. A native speaker of Japanese, she used anone habitually. By the time mom went to pick me up, I had fallen in love with the sound of the word. Everyone, of course, was amused by me running around saying a Japanese word.

The Chiu family lived a few blocks away from us. Their front yard was smaller than ours but had a wooden gate, low enough that one could reach over to the other side and unlock it. On one side of the house, there was another door blocking away the real intruders. If my memory serves me right, Mr. Chiu was a professor in economics. The children, two daughters and a son, were all much older than me. But everyone in the household was nice. I was barely old enough to understand the concept of “foreign countries” when they emigrated to Canada. First, Mr. and Mrs. Chiu left to explore the possibilities; then, the children followed.

In those year, under martial law, international traveling in and out of Taiwan was restricted. The day of the Chiu’s departure, there was a long send-off. We took pictures with the family in front of their house. Then, we went to the airport with them. Mom took a photo of dad holding Little Cop, looking out to the tarmac. Little Cop was visibly excited by the sight of giant airplanes. Dad, even under the shield of eyeglasses, seemed afflicted. Was he sad about losing friends, most likely permanently? Was he wondering about his own destiny? I was too young to understand those things.

Occasionally, we received news from Canada. A few times, Mr. and Mrs. Chiu returned to visit their relatives. However, it was years after I moved to the States during one of mom’s visits when I saw Mrs. Chiu in Montreal. Mr. Chiu had passed away not too long before our visit. Her children all found their own successes in different parts of the country. She was as sweet as I remembered. She and mom talked for hours and days all in Japanese.

Although unplanned, we had the great fortune to be in Montreal during the week of firework festival. Mrs. Chiu brought mom and me to a friend’s apartment in a high-rise by the river where the fireworks were launched. Watching the fireworks, all synchronized with music, as well as floating boats with flickering lights on the river, we shared the joyful event together. Often with a huge explosion of colorful lights, even Mrs. Chiu and mom, the elderly members of the party, could hardly hold back their excitements.

We stayed in touch with phone calls and holiday cards after the Montreal visit. Mrs. Chiu sold her house and moved to Vancouver to be near her older daughter. Mom might have visited her when touring the Northwest one year.

Several years had gone by. I settled down after completing my degrees. Mom was staying with me for a period. Mrs. Chiu’s younger daughter relocated to the suburb of Pittsburgh with her husband. We arranged a visit. As the door opened, Mrs. Chiu was there, all smiley. Her daughter shouted astonishingly: “甜甜茶” (tian-tian-chá)—sweet, sweet tea. Unknown to me, that was the nickname that her family gave me. Mrs. Chiu used to make Japanese style sweet tea (amacha?) I must have asked for it whenever I went to their house. And, Mrs. Chiu spoiled me.

That was the last time I saw Mrs. Chiu in person. Since they left when I was still very young, I couldn’t recall the faces of each member of the family. Yet, I missed the sweet memories that we all shared. Unfortunately, my Japanese didn’t improve much after that initial lesson.