What's your relationship with food?

fulfilling? complicated? spicy?

In this series, I explore my relationship with things we consume like food and alcohol, and what defines us like money, music, and clothes. And by sharing my memories I hope it will encourage you to do the same, too. Bon appétit!

I could take it down in one sitting…

Genesis – in the beginning, there was plenty and sugar

My brother and I pretty much had free range over the foods we wanted. But not in a “Do you want sushi or beef wellies?” kind of way – more like we rode the shopping cart down commissary food aisles with bold delight throwing in Twinkies, Ding Dongs, and Ho-ho’s – kind of way. We enjoyed our junk food and took full advantage that our immigrant mom didn’t know how to read labels. I also feel certain she wanted to give to us what she didn’t have as a child growing up in rural Thailand.

Mom’s stocky, and occasionally complains about wanting to lose weight, but I’ve never seen her starve herself to slim down. She’s not a picky eater, she’s open to trying new things, but she used to be very picky, which I found remarkable since she grew up so poor her family ate leftover rice from their neighbors.

But when she was raising us, she was a good food role model. Mom often cooked (she’s excellent, nothing like having top notch Thai food in your home), grew herbs and fruit in our yard, and didn’t put restrictions on what we could eat. Of course, she admonished me for not eating enough vegetables or eating too much Dyers ice cream, but she wasn’t strict, and I think this helped me develop a balanced palate.

My mom’s boyfriend, on the other hand, smoked Marlboro Reds and drank Coors beer. He subsisted on drive-thru fast food, as I imagine most guys in construction did. He’s lean as a string bean though. He once told me that he didn’t like to eat because he got used to not eating when he was a kid. Essentially, I was raised in a working class home by a couple who knew what it was like to grow up hungry.

But they were generous with food. My brother, Larry, reminded me of a time when Mom’s boyfriend accidentally burned one of the three steaks on the BBQ. But rather than cutting one in half, so us kids could share (reasonable), he gave the remaining two to us, and chose to not eat.

We were part of the Pepsi generation, so our pantry was filled with the blue and red, as well as Hawaiian Sun fruit drinks. Larry would drink them at room temperature which fascinated me. Our pantry also housed a nice variety of instant noodles that would probably rival a small town’s Asian grocer. But we also had Cinnamon Life, Golden Grams, Pop Tarts, Ritz crackers with Easy Cheese, and all those other package foods that we adore. And yes, the rice cooker was always on and filled with the wonderful fluffy white rice.

Burger time, not too different than Hammer time, if you think about it.

Exodus – the lean cuisine lost years

I didn’t realize how lucky I was to grow up around great food until all that food was no longer available. Not only was I eating Thai food before it was trendy, I grew up in Hawaii, home to the mixed plate of delicious dishes from all Asian nationalities under the tropical sun.

But this was my fault, I wanted to go out-of-state for college, and being the “I’d rather walk in the woods then lie on the beach” type, I fell in love with Colorado. There are more mountains over 14,000 feet (58 to be exact) in Colorado than any other state. And in the 1990s there were not many Asians, 1.8% according to Wiki, and they were probably all in Denver where I did not reside. Now consider Hawaii, during the 1990s, there were 68.8% Asians.

So, there was not much in the way of Asian flavors in the little tourist town of Durango, Colorado. We had the Golden Dragon restaurant (which American town doesn’t have one, right?), but it was a sad comparison to Hong Kong Noodle House, Shiroyika’s, Potstickers, L&L Drive-Inn, and Zippy’s. There are countless stories of Hawaii-born-and-raised folks moving to the Mainland for college or the military, only to hightail it back to the islands because they missed the FOOD.

I gained weight during my first year away because it was freezing cold, and because I was starved for real food, so I overate to compensate. I didn’t gain a lot of weight, most people probably wouldn’t have noticed, especially under all those layers to stay warm, but I became very unhealthy.

The cafeteria had hospital-like food, made by unhappy people in hairnets, but since I had paid for this, I ate some things. Then, later my roommate, Nadya, and I would order pizza or sub sandwiches from town. So essentially, I was eating two dinners. When we went to City Market, I was shocked that all the instant noodle brands that I grew up with like Mama and Ichiban were not available. I didn’t have a rice cooker. People here didn’t eat rice, but they ate dessert after every meal.

When my mom sent me care packages (because I pleaded), there were no baked chocolate chip cookies like the American moms sent, instead mine was filled with instant noodles, hidden money, and specially made beef jerky. I don’t think I ate any fresh fruits or vegetables during this time, just acted like a college kid smoking and drinking to fit in.

Inevitably, I got really sick. My first winter in Southwest Colorado was a banner one, with so much snowfall it cause the roof of one our of school buildings to collapse. The other one was held up by a crane. The school newspaper printed photos of students on rooftops with shovels trying to save our school from being a look-alike from the movie The Shinning.

I blacked out on the toilet (always a good place to lose balance and sight). A cyst formed on the back of my neck that has never completely gone away and makes appearances when I have a cold. I went to the school doctor and found out I was slightly anemic. I also received a bizarre checkup that involved the good doc putting his hands down my pants to see how my other glands (some sort of lymph nodes) were fairing. I never went back.

You’re right, this is NOT from college days, but more recent days cooking healthy.

Leviticus – learning to cook

When Nadya and I moved out of the dorms and into an apartment, I was determined to learn how to cook. I learned a little from watching my mom, as I did watch her cook many times, but I did it because I was hungry and curious.

So, I learned how to do some basic Mexican and Italian cooking from Nadya. I discovered that cheese comes in blocks and how to use a cheese grater. I learned that Hamburger Helper, Tuna Helper, and Kraft Mac ‘n Cheese is what kids away from home make. And that anything Asian I cooked for my friends was greeted with ooohs and aaahs. And when they asked what my secret was I said, “oyster sauce”.

I also learned to appreciate and fall in love with American Southwest cuisine. My friends delighted in explaining the differences between red and green sauces, peppers, and corn. I had no idea what were huevos rancheros, smothered burritos, flatbreads, chile rellenos, jalapeño poppers, or even what a chimichanga was. And suddenly I was in a part of the world that hunted big game like deer and elk.

Post college, I started to get into cookbooks like Betty Crocker, deciding I was going to go through all the baked desserts because I didn’t grow up in a household that used the oven, except for Thanksgiving turkey or for storing pots and pans. So, I’ve made a French Silk Pie, my own crust, many pies, actually, and lots of different cookies. At my worst (best?), I was eating cookies every night.

In my late twenties, I tried a raw food diet. I even went so far as to throw away all of my pots and pans. My friend Gina had convinced me that cooked food was evil because it destroyed the enzymes. I started eating fresh fruits and vegetables, and what seemed like tasting them for the first time. But since much of our socializing is centered around food, it was a challenging diet to do during the late 1990s. In fact, so was vegetarianism, which is what I tried next, but I was an unhealthy one, eating lots of cookies (beginning to see a pattern here) and processed food.

Eventually though, I learned to eat what would be considered a standard American diet. I cooked at home because eating out in America is expensive. I learned to cut coupons, discovered Trader Joe’s and other cuisines like Indian food, and subscribed to cooking magazines like Rachael Ray’s. When I did dine out we ate at chain restaurants like Olive Garden, Cracker Barrel, or Chili’s. My partner-at-the-time and I tried to be health conscious by eliminating pork from our diet (he got the idea from reading a book about the Blue Zones) and this lasted about six or seven years.

Developing a taste for khao soi (northern noodles) in Chiang Rai, Thailand, 2014

Numbers and Deuteronomy – Eating overseas

When I moved to Thailand in 2009, surely I knew my eating habits were going to change, but it wasn’t something that I really thought through. Even finding an apartment with a kitchen was a challenge, let alone adjusting to ones that are so different than back home. I just thought I was going to be eating all this great Thai food, but American Thai food, or food my mom customized for her American kids is not what Thais generally eat.

Yes, I had the advantage of recognizing some of the food from my mom’s kitchen, but I didn’t eat her food. There was her food and the food that she made for us. For example, her food would be a pink bowl of soup that looked like something out of a horror movie, yen ta fo, rice noodles with cubes of congealed blood, octopus tentacles, fish balls, and anomalous bitter vegetables. But for us kids, dinner was moo palo, braised pork belly with hard boiled eggs in a rich broth of Chinese five spice and soy.

I was in culture shock over everything, it didn’t matter that I had a Thai mom, I was raised in America. Everything felt like a grind from how to speak the language, to ordering food, to navigating hot and smelly outdoor markets, street food, and everything in between from trying new things to finding something familiar.

When I lived in Ecuador, it was just as challenging, even though the food didn’t look as foreign. It was bland beans and rice with meat. Often, I felt gassy and bloated despite walking up and down the hilly streets of Cuenca. So, I relied upon burgers and fries because those were what tasted good to me. And I began to discover that a life overseas meant diarrhea and food poisoning were regular companions.

At the same time, living abroad opened larder horizons that never would have occurred had I stayed in America. My connection, appreciation, and understanding for food has grown, especially for my mom’s Northern Thai cooking. From picky eater to feeling like I’m staring in my own Food Network travel show, I’ve gone beyond how something looked to my American aesthetic to feeling proud that I’ve tried many different fruits, vegetables, and meals that younger Lani would have outright refused.

But in 2019 after a particularly bad case of food poisoning from questionable meat, my husband asked if I’d like to give veganism a try. He had watched Netflix’s Game Changers and wanted to clean up our diet. I surprised him by saying, yes, and jumping in cold turkey, and we haven’t looked back since.

These days there are tons of online resources, and since I previously cooked vegetarian in an attempt to eat less meat when I lived in the US, it wasn’t too much of a leap. I like the creativity of cooking vegan, trying new things, and eating more fruits and vegetables. Monotony is not an issue because we’ve lived in places that serve local vegan dishes and the menu changes. If anything, I eat more variety than I did as an omnivore.

I do like a full pantry and fridge. Some people spend their money on entertainment, or alcohol, or shoes, I spend it on food. I’m not a snob, but hopefully the days of eating anything and everything, just because I don’t easily gain weight, are gone. I want to have a healthy relationship with food, and for me, that means treats on occasion, but taking care of my body first and foremost.

What about you? What’s your relationship with food?