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We have been in the States now for almost three months. We have enjoyed the ease and comfort of shopping in climate-controlled, tidy supermarkets. We have eaten enough dairy to last us a lifetime. We have feasted on all the yummy fruits we have been deprived of for four years. We have strolled the wide aisles, debated over all the choices of foods, and been thankful for our home country.
However our palate has changed over the years because we have all found ourselves longing for the good, fresh flavor of lemongrass, small hot chilies, freshly grated galangal, coriander, and the list goes on. I guess these are just symptoms of having two places you call home.
So last week a long-time friend of my family said they would love to cook traditional Thai food for us! The collective sighs were heard for miles, and the whole week’s plans revolved around Friday’s lunch. We went to bed every night with visions of crispy egg rolls dancing in our heads.
Ok, I might be exaggerating, but we were all very excited.
Our expectations were not disappointed. I walked into my mom’s kitchen, and our sweet friend had brought all the makings for a wonderful lunch. So we chopped together, we sautéed together, and we wrapped egg rolls together. When it was all ready to eat, I could have cried. For just a few hours, being able to talk about the place I call my “other home,” to be understood, to smell all the familiar aromas of good Asian food, to sit and taste all the flavors that we love—it really was a special time.
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