Food has always felt complicated to me, almost like my kryptonite. I never thought of myself as someone with a good palate. For the longest time, I believed the purpose of eating was simply to not be hungry, and taste didn’t matter. That mindset made me cautious whenever I traveled — I would search for food I was already comfortable with, rather than risk trying something new and wasting it. It was only recently, when someone asked me how my last meal tasted and all I could say was “not bad,” that I realized how much my attitude toward food reflected something deeper about me.
I’ve started to change that. My first real step was trying Thai food. At the Original Hoy-Ka restaurant, I expected fiery spice, but the waiter recommended gentler dishes: Chicken Satay and Ka Prao with Rice. They turned out to be sweet, comforting, and surprisingly easy for me to enjoy. The portions were large enough to take home, and for once, my taste buds didn’t resist. That experience made me wonder what it would be like to taste these dishes in Thailand itself. Maybe one day, when courage and circumstance align, I’ll add Thailand to my travel list.
Japanese food was another revelation. I tried Miso Soup alongside a rice bowl with crispy seaweed, egg, and sesame-coated chicken. I later learned it might have been Oyakodon or Katsudon. The flavors were explosive, layered, and overwhelming in the best way. Japanese food feels wholesome, like it carries a sense of home even when eaten alone. It evokes warmth, belonging, and joy — emotions I didn’t expect to find in a meal.
I tried a Philly Cheesesteak in Philadelphia. Rich, hearty, and indulgent, it felt like comfort food in its truest form. But it raised a question for me: does eating a dish from another region within the same country count as “traveling through cuisine”? I think it does. Just as Indian food varies different regions American food shifts from Philly cheesesteaks to Tex-Mex. Regional cuisines are worlds within worlds, each worth exploring.
Food is no longer just about filling my stomach. It’s becoming a journey — one that mirrors travel, culture, and even emotion. Cooking these dishes myself may not capture their authenticity, but it allows me to participate in the story of flavors. I’m learning to accept and appreciate tastes from around the world, one dish at a time. And maybe, through this journey, I’ll discover not just new cuisines, but new parts of myself.
Word Hues 