Before
I went to Lee’s Garden, my only prior experience with Korean food involved my
friend’s mother’s dumplings. I recognized Kim Jong Il and Kim Jong Un and that
was about it. I thought the Korean restaurant might include the usual “Asian
restaurant” motifs: dragons, gold, and red. Embarrassing. I tried my best to
set my assumptions aside and went to Lee’s Garden for dinner armed with two
Korean food experts and two novices like me.
I can now say I have eaten Mrs. Kim’s
dumplings and Mr. Lee’s dumplings. Mr. Lee’s were better, no offense to my
friend’s mother. In fact, the golden mandoo
appetizer was my favorite part of dinner at Lee’s. I was able to pinch the
crescent shaped dumplings between two chopsticks without making myself look too
silly and I understood the dish’s ingredients and consequent flavors without
much problem.
What’s
more, I got to know Mr. Lee through the dumplings. I first noticed his charm
when he set a plate piled high with mandoo
on the table I was sharing with four of my friends and told us he included
three dumplings for each of us instead of the two we ordered. I was hooked,
fascinated by Mr. Lee’s unwarranted kindness. I couldn’t understand why this
quiet man was being so nice to five girls who hadn’t said anything to him with the
exception of an order for mandoo.
Then, I realized that we were one of two parties in the restaurant and we
weren’t actually receiving any special treatment. Mr. Lee was like this with
everyone; he quietly helped the other customers order too.
My
interest in Mr. Lee and his wife continued when Christian worship music began
to play over the stereo system. My friends and I first thought a choir had
started singing in the kitchen. Then I noticed the stained glass windows, the
multiple organs in corners of the dining room and the Hosanna Church pamphlets
on the counter. I couldn’t quite figure out where I was.
Dinner
at Mr. Lee’s was like a field trip. Nothing I ate or experienced met the
expectations I had before the meal, but I was comfortable in my booth seat and
I went along for the ride.
I
had expected to find the same decorations and dishes I was used to seeing and
eating at Asian restaurants at Lee’s Garden, but I didn’t. I was relieved—those
decorations sometimes give me nervous tummy aches. I worry that my
participation in dining at Chinese and Thai restaurants contributes to some
cycle of colonization I should know about. I cross my fingers that I’m not
cheapening someone’s culture by eating pad thai and sweet and sour chicken
take-out.
Lee’s
Garden had no dragons, no red and gold, no costumes. The only discomfort I felt
upon dining there was anxiety over spiciness and heat. A sufferer of
acid-reflux, spicy food makes my face crinkle and my stomach turn. I took a few
Tums and survived a few bites of kimchi
and spicy soup. The barley tea served at Lee’s Garden also assisted in calming
my fears. I drink several cups of green and herbal tea every day, and I was
thrilled by this new flavor. I think I finished four cups on my first visit to
Lee’s.
My
review experience at Lee’s Garden helped me realize why I sometimes shy away
from Asian restaurants. I get nervous about spice and, for some reason,
colonization. If nothing else, I come away from this with a new vigor for
trying the dishes not only at Korean restaurants, but also the one’s I’ve been
afraid to try at Thai, Chinese, and Japanese restaurants. I’ll take some extra
Tums and enthusiasm with me. After dining at Lee’s and meeting Mr. Lee and his kind
wife, I feel much better. I think entering new dining experiences with openness
to adventure makes everything okay.
Someday,
I hope to learn more about Korean food and culture. Maybe repeat visits to Lee’s
Garden will help.
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