Stick it

Growing up in northern New Jersey with a mother whose childhood was spent in New York (with very little money), my mother knew every hole in the wall ethnic place in a 30-mile radius. At a young age she taught me to eat with chopsticks when we went to Chinese restaurants, "because you should eat the food the way it was meant to be eaten." Same thing at Japanese and Korean restaurants. (In Thailand, if you didn't know, they eat with forks. You won't impress your server in a Thai restaurant if you ask for chopsticks.)

(As an aside, I'm reminded of an old girlfriend who, on our second date, invited me to her house for dinner. Knowing I loved Asian food she prepared a stir fry. Unfortunately, she couldn't find pea pods, so she used peas. Eating with chopsticks was a bit of a struggle.)

One time my mother and I were in a little neighborhood Chinese restaurant, where the extended family that obviously owned the place was camped out at a big circular table in the center of the restaurant. I was probably nine or 10. At the table were a number of kids, probably about my age, give or take. Like many first generation immigrants, the Chinese kids  desperately wanted to be like their new American friends. I imagine the rejection of their Chinese heritage was hurtful to their parents. I noticed the kids were all eating with forks.

"See," said one of the older Chinese women, perhaps the matriarch of the family. She pointed at my mother and me. "They're eating with chopsticks."

Having trouble with your kids rejecting their heritage? Give me a call.