Jimmy Akin

Visiting an Asian market can be a little like visiting another planet. Indeed, it seems that the property departments on sci-fi shows often visit such places in order to procure exotic-looking fruits, such as the aptly-named star fruit (left) to use as set dressing in alien environments.

I don’t know on how many Star Trek or Stargate or Babylon 5 episodes I’ve seen fruit that look just like it was freshly purchased at Ranch 99 Asian Market–though for some reason, I’ve never seen one of the most popular Asian fruits: durian. I can’t imagine why the studio folks wouldn’t want a bunch of durians sitting around under hot lights all day. 😉

But going to an Asian market can give one an even stronger experience (the same is true for Asians visiting American markets for the first time–that whole diff’rent strokes thing).

This weekend when I visited the local Mitsuwa Japanese market, I was reminded of the experience.

For a start, though I know a few words and phrases in Japanese, I have no idea how to read Japanese script, though I have thought about memorizing the Hiragana or Katakana “alphabets” (they’re really syllabaries, but at least they aren’t logographic). But I’m not there yet, so almost all of the writing on the food is completely unintelligible to me.

Often the only English writing is on the nutrition label that the importer has (usually) glued on (most) products. This typically has the name of the food–or an approximation of it. Sometimes the name will simply be the Asian name for the food transliterated, in which case I’m not further enlightened if I don’t know the food already. Other times you’ll get a loose conceptual description of the product like “Corn Snack” or “Yam Alimentary Paste” (which just means “Yam Nutritional Paste”).

Of course, if I know what the food is, I may be able to recognize it by sight, but much of the time I’m looking at kinds of food I’ve never seen before, so I end up reading a lot of nutrition labels to figure out what I’m holding in my hand.

It is at this point that I often think of characters in sci-fi shows meeting new cultures and trying out foods they’ve never seen before. It’s usually pretty easy to imagine trying and eating a food if you don’t know what it is. If you’re a typical American, you’ve likely never had lychee or rambutan, but they’re fruits, and Americans generally don’t find fruits threatening (durian being a notable exception).

Other foods are similar to American ones . . . but different. This weekend I bought a product (very low in carbs) labeled “egg custard.” It was the oddest custard I’ve ever tasted. It didn’t taste bad, but . . . it wasn’t sweet. In fact, it was salty, and the honey-looking glaze that came with it tasted like soy sauce. It also was a lot more firm (like firm tofu) than custard I’ve previously had.

This also resonates a little bit with what you see on sci-fi shows. When characters are talking about “Tarkalian tea” or “Raktajino” (i.e., “Klingon coffee”) or “Saurian brandy,” one knows that they must be similar to but still different than the teas, coffees, and brandies that we are familiar with. Trying Japanese egg custard is kind of the same experience.

On the other hand, you sometimes encounter foods and you know exactly what it is, though you would never imagine that people would want to prepare food in this way, like shrimp-flavored crackers or fish paste or . . . (shudder) . . . clam jerky.

It’s odd that, in a way, the more familiar a food is the more unsettling unexpected uses of it can be. This is particularly true, I find, for meats. Unexpected uses of meat are particularly unsettling for Americans . . . or at least for me.

This is not to say I don’t enjoy trying such foods. I’m told that I’m rather adventurous for an American in what foreign food I will eat (at least if I’m not dieting). I enjoy trying other folks’ food–even foods I don’t especially like the taste of–in order to experience what they do and thereby gain insight into their culture, knowing that if I had grown up eating the food, I’d like it just as much as they do. It’s a way of honoring others’ cultures and, thereby, the potential for cultural diversity that God built into mankind.

The Asian markets I’ve visited tend to be very much like American markets in some ways and very different in others. This goes beyond the similarities and differences in the foods. For example, they are similar in that they have impulse-purchase items (like kids’ toys and inexpensive health and beauty items) right up by the checkout stands. But they also are different. For example, in the Mitsuwa market this weekend there was a hand-lettered sign on the wall that said (in English) “Eat Calcium.”

One of the most interesting differences (though this doesn’t apply to little, small mom-and-pop stores) is that the markets are often like mini-malls. In addition to the central grocery section, there will be a number of small shops within the market (around the periphery) that sell things other than food. For example, at the one I visited this weekend there was a bookshop selling Japanese books and newspapers, a beauty supply store, a furniture store, even a place that you could buy Japanese toilets.

And that’s all quite understandable. If I were an American in another country and went to an American market to get some groceries from back home, I’d like to pick up other things from back home as well. Even . . . the way the plumbing works in some countries . . . an American toilet.

Visiting an Asian market can be a little like visiting another planet. Indeed, it seems that the property departments on sci-fi shows often visit such places in order to procure exotic-looking fruits, such as the aptly-named star fruit (left) to use as set dressing in alien environments.

I don’t know on how many Star Trek or Stargate or Babylon 5 episodes I’ve seen fruit that look just like it was freshly purchased at Ranch 99 Asian Market–though for some reason, I’ve never seen one of the most popular Asian fruits: durian. I can’t imagine why the studio folks wouldn’t want a bunch of durians sitting around under hot lights all day. 😉

But going to an Asian market can give one an even stronger experience (the same is true for Asians visiting American markets for the first time–that whole diff’rent strokes thing).

This weekend when I visited the local Mitsuwa Japanese market, I was reminded of the experience.

For a start, though I know a few words and phrases in Japanese, I have no idea how to read Japanese script, though I have thought about memorizing the Hiragana or Katakana “alphabets” (they’re really syllabaries, but at least they aren’t logographic). But I’m not there yet, so almost all of the writing on the food is completely unintelligible to me.

Often the only English writing is on the nutrition label that the importer has (usually) glued on (most) products. This typically has the name of the food–or an approximation of it. Sometimes the name will simply be the Asian name for the food transliterated, in which case I’m not further enlightened if I don’t know the food already. Other times you’ll get a loose conceptual description of the product like “Corn Snack” or “Yam Alimentary Paste” (which just means “Yam Nutritional Paste”).

Of course, if I know what the food is, I may be able to recognize it by sight, but much of the time I’m looking at kinds of food I’ve never seen before, so I end up reading a lot of nutrition labels to figure out what I’m holding in my hand.

It is at this point that I often think of characters in sci-fi shows meeting new cultures and trying out foods they’ve never seen before. It’s usually pretty easy to imagine trying and eating a food if you don’t know what it is. If you’re a typical American, you’ve likely never had lychee or rambutan, but they’re fruits, and Americans generally don’t find fruits threatening (durian being a notable exception).

Other foods are similar to American ones . . . but different. This weekend I bought a product (very low in carbs) labeled “egg custard.” It was the oddest custard I’ve ever tasted. It didn’t taste bad, but . . . it wasn’t sweet. In fact, it was salty, and the honey-looking glaze that came with it tasted like soy sauce. It also was a lot more firm (like firm tofu) than custard I’ve previously had.

This also resonates a little bit with what you see on sci-fi shows. When characters are talking about “Tarkalian tea” or “Raktajino” (i.e., “Klingon coffee”) or “Saurian brandy,” one knows that they must be similar to but still different than the teas, coffees, and brandies that we are familiar with. Trying Japanese egg custard is kind of the same experience.

On the other hand, you sometimes encounter foods and you know exactly what it is, though you would never imagine that people would want to prepare food in this way, like shrimp-flavored crackers or fish paste or . . . (shudder) . . . clam jerky.

It’s odd that, in a way, the more familiar a food is the more unsettling unexpected uses of it can be. This is particularly true, I find, for meats. Unexpected uses of meat are particularly unsettling for Americans . . . or at least for me.

This is not to say I don’t enjoy trying such foods. I’m told that I’m rather adventurous for an American in what foreign food I will eat (at least if I’m not dieting). I enjoy trying other folks’ food–even foods I don’t especially like the taste of–in order to experience what they do and thereby gain insight into their culture, knowing that if I had grown up eating the food, I’d like it just as much as they do. It’s a way of honoring others’ cultures and, thereby, the potential for cultural diversity that God built into mankind.

The Asian markets I’ve visited tend to be very much like American markets in some ways and very different in others. This goes beyond the similarities and differences in the foods. For example, they are similar in that they have impulse-purchase items (like kids’ toys and inexpensive health and beauty items) right up by the checkout stands. But they also are different. For example, in the Mitsuwa market this weekend there was a hand-lettered sign on the wall that said (in English) “Eat Calcium.”

One of the most interesting differences (though this doesn’t apply to little, small mom-and-pop stores) is that the markets are often like mini-malls. In addition to the central grocery section, there will be a number of small shops within the market (around the periphery) that sell things other than food. For example, at the one I visited this weekend there was a bookshop selling Japanese books and newspapers, a beauty supply store, a furniture store, even a place that you could buy Japanese toilets.

And that’s all quite understandable. If I were an American in another country and went to an American market to get some groceries from back home, I’d like to pick up other things from back home as well. Even . . . the way the plumbing works in some countries . . . an American toilet.