Joy and inspiration in the dried fish aisle
My dream for you all is that you have an ethnic market conveniently located for weekly shopping. I know. Dream big.
But the cooking and eating opportunities available after a run to the Asian market down the street from me are truly impressive. The produce section was the early draw for me. Produce takes up at least a quarter of this suburban-supermarket-sized establishment, bins overflowing with the fruit and vegetable staples of Korea, China, India, Thailand, the Carribean, Central America, Mexico, and points further. Juicy pineapples, fragrant herbs and exotic mushrooms are all available at prices well below those found at my local Giant. A crisp head of cauliflower for $1.59. Scallions, 10 bunches for a dollar. Kubocha squash for 59 cents a pound. I can load a cart with a generous week’s worth of 5-a-day for around 30 dollars.
Some of these items are imported from Costa Rica, Peru and where ever it is that durian grows. The vast majority, though, comes from Pennsylvania, according to the twist ties on my broccoli rabe ($1 a bunch!) and the stickers on the spaghetti squash. My family leans locavorian, so that feels good. I wish for more organic items, but ultimately I have to weigh the benefits of the volumes and volumes of conventional produce that my family eats against the prohibitive cost of eating the same volume, organically grown. In the winter, when the CSA is dormant and farmer’s markets are populated by Olive Ladies and Bread Guys, the Asian market produce wins out.
Once I’m there, having selected a few stalks of lemongrass and some fresh galanga to make tom yum soup, I get to delve deeper into the store. The noodle aisle is spectacular, with every size, shape and millable grain represented. I select from three widths of pad thai noodles in their crinkly wrappers, then reach for a sheaf of soba noodles in its delicate floral paper band. Behind me is a wall of pan-Asian condiments, labels in Korean or Thai but with USDA-mandated translations overwrapped helpfully on top. The back of the store houses a pretty decent fish counter. I select a healthy-looking red snapper from the iced bins and hand it to the Salvadorean fishmonger, who expertly scales, guts, and filets it for me. Seaweed is available in any permutation you like for broth or nori roll making. Then comes a mind-boggling array of rice. Rabbit. Korean-cut short ribs. Black chicken. And a technicolor aisle of Asian snack foods that my kids find captivating.
Then, there’s the dreaded dried fish aisle…the source of the smell that permeates the market. This post’s title is a bit far-reaching; I have yet to truly be inspired by the wall of silvery dried seafood. I have gotten used to the smell over the years I have been shopping there, though, so there is some joy in that. And just past the dried seafood is a killer selection of prepared foods. Dumplings, marinated meats, salads, sashimi, all so much fresher and brighter than the pallid roasted chickens and mayonnaise-laden salads available at the Safeway.
I do cook a lot of Asian food, mostly because my family loves it, but also because of the amazing ingredients I can buy down the street. But I find ingredients for a globe’s worth of cuisines there…green beans and shallots for a quick saute side dish, sweet potatoes to mash with chipotle chiles and serve with grilled lamb, fruits for my kids’ lunchboxes. It really is a joyful place for me.
For NoVA readers: H-Mart, with several locations including my beloved at Lee Highway and Gallows Road.
Uncategorized | jen | 
March 25, 2010 11:39 am | 
Comments (1)
Subscribe