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The Goddess Speaks Genevieve A. Suzuki |
Love goes with
chocolate, or tripeI've heard tales that food can connect a person with good -- and bad -- memories.
In the film "Like Water for Chocolate," the lead character cooks up concoctions that reflect her feelings. On the day she was upset, she made her guests retch, and on the day she was ecstatic, she gave them unbelievable pleasure.
Until recently, I believed that the possibility of food affecting emotions was purely fictional. I ate mindlessly through college, during football games and dates, and in movie theaters. I have yet to be emotionally stirred by a hot dog, except maybe when I'm paying a thousand bucks for one at the movies.
But a few weeks ago, I experienced what can only be described as digestive ecstasy, which took me to a whole other time and place.
JJ's French Pastry, a little shop in Kaimuki, is home to the best baker in town. JJ makes the most delicious cream puffs, the lightest croissants and the finest chocolate pyramid this side of the Nile. He is a truly gifted man.
My husband, Derek, and I were already cognizant of JJ's talent. We purchased his chocolate pyramid as our wedding cake four years ago, and receive compliments on it to this day.
So, after dropping off tax documents on Waialae Avenue, Derek asked if I would like to have a treat at JJ's shop. Really, he didn't need to ask because I had already begun salivating and pressing my nose against the window, ogling the many goodies and frightening the customers inside.
After sitting down at one of the cute little round cafe tables, I fantasized about which pastry I was going to use to bust my diet. Would it be the small version of my wedding cake? The cherry cheesecake? The banana haupia?
I chose the Frou Frou Au Chocolat. I haven't the slightest idea what that means. It probably has something to do with poodles, exclusive designers and chic women named Monique.
Nevertheless, I chose the creation and anxiously awaited the experience au chocolat.
WHEN JJ's daughter, who admitted aspiring to be a doctor and not a baker, served up the dessert, I marveled at the chocolate design atop the pastry.
"This is great. Can we take it home and display it on the mantle?" I asked my annoyed husband, who had already swallowed his fruity tart whole.
When I finally took a bite, my world spun out of control. I felt the same rush that falling in love gives you -- no joke.
After consuming the chocolate top, I delved into the white chocolate creamy filling and immediately -- I kid you not -- remembered a wonderful day Derek and I spent at the Halekulani. The open windows, the breezy interior, the touch of class all came back with that sweet taste of white chocolate.
"Derek, you have to try this. It's beautiful. It's unreal. It's like going on our best dates all over again."
He smirked at my enthusiasm and declined to try the chocolate aphrodisiac. "I'm not a chocolate kind of guy," he said.
But did he know what I was talking about? Had he ever experienced the same bliss?
"Of course. In fact, you know what reminds me of when we first dated?" he asked.
Was it Key lime pie from Ryan's? Dessert at Alan Wong's? Perhaps the sweet fudge from Jameson's by the Sea on the North Shore?
"Tripe stew," he answered.
Ah ... tripe stew. The local favorite I once thought was made of fish. Friends would say they loved tripe stew. I constantly wondered where in the world a person would catch tripe. Was tripe a good-looking fish? Should I be joining a Save the Tripe Foundation?
I didn't realize just what tripe was until I began dating Derek, who guffawed loudly when I told him I most certainly did know what tripe was and that it could be caught on a fishing expedition to Alaska. That was when I found out that tripe was the stomach tissue of an ox or a cow. (And to think I made fun of Jessica Simpson's confusion over Chicken of the Sea and Buffalo wings.)
"Are you saying that tripe stew makes you think of when we first fell in love?" I asked.
The innards of any animal are never a romantic ideal.
"Yep," he answered without shame, "because it's so goooood."
Bleah, I thought. My husband might mean well, but bleah. Suddenly it hit me, however, that one woman's Frou Frou Au Chocolat is another man's tripe stew.
How could I complain about his cherished memory trigger when it wasn't mine to choose? At least something was triggering good memories.
That's why "Like Water for Chocolate" was such a hit. People have special relationships with food. Taste is as unique as the perception of what we consume.
For me, chocolate was a prized confection; for Derek, tripe stew was a favorite basic. Like our memories, our food experiences are subjective in the best way possible.
And in the end, that was what left the best taste in my mouth.
Genevieve A. Suzuki is a Honolulu-based freelance writer.
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