already heard of Parc and was eager to try its rendition of his favorite French dessert, profiteroles. As were walking up to Parc, he was already nodding in approval at the exterior design. Colas explained that the red awnings were typical of a brasserie, which is a mix between a casual café and a bar. Apparently even the chairs were representative of a standard brasserie. Stepping into the restaurant, he praised the interior decoration as “a fantasy of what France looked like a century ago.” However, he was appalled that there were no tablecloths. “In France,” he lamented, “they would at least have a paper tablecloth,” noting that the French take lunch, or dejeuner, very seriously. Still, he confessed, “I’m not going to lie, they did a really good job; they even have a fake French liquor license hung behind the bar.” After we were seated, Colas commented, “The service is horrible. It feels like home—very authentic.” I asked him to scan through the menu and point out anything that was glaringly not French. To my surprise, he estimated that 95% of the dishes were authentic. He chuckled when he saw the onion soup and remarked, “Americans think that it’s so French. Yes, it’s common, but we don’t usually order it in restaurants. Basically it’s just water and onion. Its something you eat at the end of a wedding party at seven in the morning.” Another complaint was that 11 dollars was far too pricey for the staple Parisian ham baguette, although he attested that it tasted very true to that served in France. “[In France] you can get 11 whole baguettes for 11 dollars,” he commented. Furthermore, he considered the chicken liver mousse very inauthentic. In France, chefs use duck or goose liver; never chicken. For his entree, Colas selected Quiche Lorraine. He was very satisfied with the taste, but found that the portion was much bigger than that served in France. When taking a bite of French quiche, he explains, it’s essential to obtain a perfect crust-tofilling ratio. But in the case of the American-sized quiche, the filling was much thicker, so it was difficult to fork off the perfect balance. For dessert, Colas insisted on having profiteroles, which are pastry puffs filled with vanilla ice cream and drizzled with chocolate sauce. Since this is such a common dessert in France, it is almost always factory-made. However, he was pleased to find that in the U.S. they are generally made from scratch, which enhances the flavor. Generally, espresso served in France comes with a small chocolate on the side. At Parc, there was no chocolate, but there was a homemade cookie, which was a nice surprise. Overall, Parc proved to be a satisfactory experience. Colas remarked throughout the night that he was puzzled as to why what he considered typical food was being served at such a nice restaurant. Regardless of some of his criticisms, when he saw that I was particularly slow in finishing my french fries, he smiled and said, “The food is good, and you’re obviously not eating them as they deserve to be eaten . . . so let me help you.” That’s when I knew that Parc had passed the test of authenticity.
Exploring Japanese: Sushi Rolls at Vic’s The next ethnic food I explored was Japanese cuisine. I met up with Koichiro Narita, a computer science major from the International Chrisitan University in Tokyo, Japan. He was the
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perfect candidate: on many occasions, Koichiro has complained about how he was afraid that he wouldn’t survive a whole year in the U.S. because the food was so different. Since he had just arrived in the country, Koichiro was not accustomed to “Americanized” sushi. I expected he would be in for a surprise. We chose to go to Vic’s Sushi because of its reputation for authenticity and reasonable prices. As soon as we walked into the crammed little eatery, Koichiro remarked that the smell of the place reminded him of home. He looked around at the sushi counter and orange walls with a satisfied grin. However, the grin faded away when he saw the itamae (sushi chef) standing behind the counter wearing disposable gloves. “That would never happen in Japan,” he sighed, in disbelief. He remarked that wearing gloves diminished both the aesthetic and the craft of sushi making. According to Koichiro, the texture and sweat of a sushi master’s hands are of great importance--so much so that it is supposedly one of the reasons why there are so few, if any, female sushi chefs in Japan. It is also rumored that the fluctuation of the temperature of a woman’s hands during her menstrual cycle is one of the reasons women are barred from the sushi counter. In defense of the chef, though, it is a health code violation for those preparing sushi to not wear gloves. As we examined the menu, Koichiro noted that two thirds of the menu consisted of specialty rolls, such as California or Volcano Rolls, while the remaining third listed traditional, simpler sushi like tuna, eel and cucumber. He pointed out that in Japan it would be the opposite; the bulk of the menu would be simple. Some of the adjectives he used when describing the pictures of sushi in the menu included “flashy,” “grotesque” and “unbelievable.” When our order of miso soup came out first, Koichiro looked confused, because in Japan, miso is served at the end of the meal to clear the mouth of the fishy aftertaste. Our main course order included tuna, egg, spicy salmon, eel, avocado and Ocean Brother rolls. An avocado roll is unheard of in Japan, since the vegetable is not native to the country. Koichiro was shocked that the seaweed used in the egg roll was sweetened. He explained that in the Japanese version of the roll, the egg is full of flavor, while the seaweed is bland. “Here the egg is dry and tasteless, while the seaweed is sweet.” When he tasted the tuna roll, his face looked downright miserable. “This is worse than the tuna that they serve at 100 yen (76 cents) chain restaurants.” Eel was his favorite out of the traditional rolls, because the eel sauce used was very authentic. Surprisingly, his favorite roll was the most non-Japanese specialty roll: the Ocean Brother roll. He explained that since that roll is so far from what sushi really is, the “strange” combination of tempura and avocado allowed him to just enjoy it, instead of forcing him to compare it to authentic Japanese cuisine. “When I eat this, it’s like I’m just eating a different food altogether. It’s not even sushi anymore, but it’s delicious.” Koichiro commented that the only thing that was not Americanized were the portions, which were in line with those in Japan. Koichiro was also disappointed by the lack of interaction between the customers and the itamae. He explained that in Japan, the itamae keeps up a casual conversation with the customers from behind the counter. The conversation makes the customers trust him more, and subsequently trust the food he is making.” continued on p.38 pennappetit.com