8/29/97 - Everybody Foo Young Tonight

You may be wondering where my stubbornly independent, free-thinking nature came from. It comes from the fact that I left home at a very early age. I was not asked to leave, as I'm sure many of you suspect. No, I left home on my 17th birthday, of my own accord, of my own volition.

It was not an unhappy home I left, but there was part of the lifestyle that my family led that I just could not accept, that was so violently opposed to every moral fiber that I'd developed in my youth, even now I cringe with dull, lingering pain, as I recall those days gone by.

"We're going out for Chinese food!" would come the fateful, horrible cry. Even by this time, I had developed quite an affection for oriental food, but this was not a happy announcement. No, this was to be the starting gun of another evening of excruciating self-loathing and discontent.

I'd sit there at the table, perusing the menu like a cow being asked which method of slaughter he preferred. Knowing that my choice would never avert the inevitable, I'd mumble "sweet and sour pork" in defeated tones, while the waiter pondered the joyless expression on my face.

Like a prisoner on death row, I waited for the meals to be served. Except a prisoner would tell you that the waiting is the hardest part. Not for me. For it was about to happen.

My stomach and throat would tense up as I saw the many plates of delicious food being laid out on the table, betwixt the artistically folded napkins. It was time. Time for...

...the Sharing.

"Okay, everyone pass them around so we can all try everything!" And gleefully, the others would play their sick little hot-potato game, ladling out some wonton soup here, dishing up some shrimp lo mein there...and helping themselves to my sweet and sour pork.

I sit here typing, having totally lost my appetite thinking about it. The Sharing.

I had to get out.

In a quest for answers about the torment of my youth, I recently visited a local Chinese restaurant, and interviewed the head chef about this peculiar, often devastating practice. The restaurant is the "Silver Panda", and the chef I spoke to was an excitable, energetic man named Mr. Cho.

This is a transcript of that interview.
Pinback: Hello, Mr. Cho.

Cho: Ya, ya, get on widdit.

Pinback: In your experiences as a chef, have you become familiar with the practice of "sharing" at the table, where members of the same family will freely pass around their dishes so everyone gets a little of everything?

Cho: No, I keep my eyes closed for da last 24 years. Whadda stupid question. Of course I see it. Every damn day!

Pinback: What do you think about this practice?

Cho: I think it a lotta booshit! I'd throw dem outta da goddamn place, if I could!

Pinback: Is this practice also common in China?

Cho: No! Fuck no! We order what we want, den we eat da goddamn shit! What da fuck is dis pass-around booshit!? Goddamn Americans are a bunch of asshole with dis booshit!

Pinback: What do you feel like, as a chef, when you see this happening?

Cho: I like, "What da fuck I cook dis shit up for if you just gonna pass it around?" If everybody want three things, they should all fucking order three things! I sick of dis shit! Next time an asshole come in and pass shit around, I gonna stick dis goddamn chopsticks up their dumb goddamn American ass! Dis is BOOSHIT!! Fuck!

Pinback: Thank you for your time.

Cho: Fuck you!!

Mr. Cho was very helpful in reassuring me that, one, it's not just me that finds this practice embarrassing at best, psychologically debilitating at worst, and two, those Chinese people sure are some irritable, foul-mouthed sons of bitches.


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