|
| |
GOING JAPANESE
by
Marta
Martin
It has long been said that the satellite dish is the state flower of West
Virginia. The metal blossom dots every holler and mountain ridge as far as the
eyes can see. My biggest joy in being a satellite dish owner is, however, The
Food Network. While, as good southerners, we are charmed by the delicate
beignets of New Orleans and the feistier fare offered us by Emeril-and though we
delight in seeing the televised controversy between Carolina barbecues versus
Memphis barbecues versus Kansas City barbecues, it was that Oriental
gladiatorial contest that caught us off guard. I imagine we had the typical
reaction of most US household the first few times we watched Iron
Chef.......wondering if Fuji Television knew how funny the show would be for
Americans. Though we take food seriously, we approach it with flamboyance and
tend to be very wasteful. The Iron Chef revere food, raise it to an art level
and waste not. You never know what could be lurking in your sorbet! Shark fin,
eye of eel or salmon roe.
Our weekend television viewing schedule is conspicuously worked around the
three weekly episodes of Iron Chef. Hell, I even ordered the book. Yes, I am the
proud owner of "Iron Chef: The Official Book".
Is it any wonder that we in the hollers eat this stuff right up? It's Nascar
with rice! Ah, the pageantry! The competition! The tension! The thrill of
victory! Here at our house shouts of victory can be heard outside if it is an
Iron Chef victory. If the challenger wins we cuss him. We favor French Iron
Chef Hiroyuki Sakai who has never lost a battle where fish was the secret
ingredient. Here in the hollers we admire someone who can get creative
with catfish or bass.
The cultural exchange here is remarkable. Because we rednecks can no longer
argue about how tough Dale Earnhardt is, may he rest in peace, we may have found
another competition to revel in. Picture this, if you will-- the regular Friday
night bonfire and beerfest in the holler. Rednecks slapping each other on the
back saying things like, "You owe me ten bucks, Bubba. I told you Chen would
take down that bastard from the Ohto Prefect!", between belches. "Shoot--you
think I'm going to pay you for ten bucks when he won with blowfish in tomato
sauce? Man! Even I saw that coming. Way too predictable. Now, if he snuck some
Viennie sausages in there-hell, I'd
double yer money!"
For us, the show has also meant a culinary revelation. We found a sushi bar at a
local upscale grocery store. The management eye me and my son with open
amusement when we come wide-eyed to gaze upon their offerings. "I'm not buying
eel. I'm telling you that right now.", I tell my son. "No, not eel.", he says
evenly, "Tuna or salmon." We liked it. No, we loved it. "I'm so proud of
you for trying new things!", a nice lady at the store told my eight-year old
daughter. "We saw it on Iron Chef!"
© 2001 Marta Martin
Marta Martin is a former radio disc jockey who gave up her
microphone for a pen. She resides in the hills of West "By God" Virginia with
her children and an interesting selection of varmints.
Her website
can be found here:
http://www.wheresmypants.net
|
