Food is just an excuse (Saigon, Tokyo)
Today, I walked in a Family Mart in Saigon. I picked up some Oden—a comforting Japanese winter dish featuring radish, fish cakes, and boiled eggs, all skewered and steeped in a spicy soy-based broth. A bite of Oden instantly transported me to freezing days in Japan. In Tokyo, on our walks home from the train station, we’d often stop at a Family Mart to grab some takeaway Oden. Its warmth offered us a welcome respite from the cold.
This in turn reminded me of a moment from the 2009 Korean film Bandhobi. The movie tells the story of an unlikely friendship between a Korean girl and an immigrant from Bangladesh. There's a scene I particularly resonate with: the girl, missing her Bangladeshi friend, visits a South Asian restaurant. She orders several dishes, and just as the waiter is about to leave with her order, she adds one more request, “It's not on the menu, but can I have some Dal?” The waiter, impressed by her knowledge of Bangladeshi cuisine, remarks, “You know Bangladeshi food very well.” She simply replies, “I have a friend. Bhandobi.”
I often find myself in various ethnic restaurants across different cities—a Korean place in Phnom Penh, a Vietnamese café in Tokyo, a Russian restaurant in Nha Trang, or a Sichuan eatery in Manila. It’s not so much about craving a particular dish; rather, I think I seek out these places because I suddenly remember the people with whom I’ve shared these meals.