It's funny to think that food can bridge such cultural boundaries when every country and region can have such a wide variety of dishes and favorites. Somehow, though, it manages to still connect people and be an incredibly fruitful conversation topic. Talking to Bandar today, it certainly became the focus of our discussion for a long while. I had just returned from a lunch banquet with some fantastic food and was excited to tell Bandar all about it. He countered by suggesting that I visit an Arabic restauant just downtown. The meals there are aparently fantastic and Bandar thought it would be good for me to try the food of another culture; I could only agree.
So I asked him what sort of meals his favorites where and what he missed the most since moving from Saudi Arabia. Bandar's eyes immediately lit up and he began to speak excitedly about a dish I could never hope to pronounce (let alone spell) but was a chicken and rice combination of some sort. It turns out that he just tried to make the dish the other weekend and he laughed and started to tell me the story of his attempt at cooking:
Bandar has never been a chef by any stretch of the imagination and had never truly made a meal in the kitchen before. He missed his favorite dish but it wasn't until he had guests coming over for a meal that he felt compelled to try his hand at making a culinary creation. The preparations began with gathering supplies, including not just food but also utensils, dishes, and the like for his previously unstocked kitchen. The meal preparation began early; Bandar knew that it would take him a long time to make the meal. Five or six hours before the meal was intended to be served, Bandar began cutting onions and preparing the chicken.
Eventually, the pan made it into the oven and all seemed to be going well. The aromas began to fill the house and Bandar felt good. When he pulled the chicken and rice out of the oven for the first time, the chicken wasn't done, but there seemed a simple solution. Back into the oven. Things still seemed pretty okay. But when the dish came out a second time, Bandar found that the rice had disintigrated and the chicken was overcooked and hardly edible.
And all Bandar's work got scraped into the trash. Fortunately, his guests were able to step in, remake the dish and the meal turned out fine in the end. It was a bit embarrassing and Bandar felt determined to master this dish, no matter how many attempts it would take.
Bandar and I laughed together over his cooking fiasco and I asked when he planned on trying again. With a smile and the shine of determination in his eye, he said that he was going to do it again tomorrow. But he hadn't set his hopes too high, he fully expected to fail once again. It would take him at least a few more mistakes to figure out how to master the recipe, but I could tell he would keep trying until he did exactly that.
The conversation continue on from that topic to Ramadan and essays, coffee and the weather, but it was the cooking story I enjoyed the most. I have never been good in the kitchen and I have had more failed creations than I can count. To my eternal shame, I have been known to have difficulty with boxed macaroni and cheese. I felt close to Bandar in that moment, and that's how I'm going to remember our conversations this semester. We've come so far from the awkward first meeting.
Bandar said he was going to miss having these conversations and I could only agree. I haven't the slightest idea whether it's helped him with English, but I enjoyed the chance to meet a incredible person here from another country.
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