The Smell Of Death
"Tin Tin Market here I come..." I thought to myself as I pulled into the parking lot. I needed to find a Japanese dish called Kamaboko, fish cake, for the udon that I was cooking for everyone. Andrea is particularly fond of this item and it is not regularly available at your local Safeway.As the automatic door swung open I was greeted by the musty-fishy smell of Tin Tin Market. Tin Tin is an Asian food store. If you have never been in a true Asian grocery, you do not know the distinct aroma they possess. I quickly grimaced as the intense scent filled my sinuses and enveloped my being. Andrea calls it the smell of fish death...
"Egads," I thought to myself as my nose wrinkled in disgust, "We're supposed to eat this stuff?!"
Now the thing about authentic Asian markets is that there is a genuine lack of niceties. It is all about function and logic. There are no little ladies handing out samples on a toothpick. There is no Starbucks to purchase one's Venti-Soy-No Whip-Toffee Nut-Latte. Just shelves, racks, bunkers and other various storage units of food, fresh, frozen and assorted states of being. All presented in a dingy light ready for the eager customers.
The fish department?...yes, that is where the lovely scent emanates from. There are rows upon rows of frozen delicacies from the sea. And no market is truly Asian without the tanks of live products. Be careful about looking in them, you may not like what you see. I have witnessed abalone, sea bass, clams, dungeness crab, king crab, snow crab, mussels, turtles and lobster. All alive and ready to be filleted, boiled and eaten. Definitely not for the weak of heart.
But I wasn't there for the live fish. I was looking for Kamaboko. Kamaboko is fish cake. And many times it has an atomic pink coloring surrounding it. Now I need to ask, have the brothers back in the Homeland ever see a fish look this pink?!!! Oh yeah, that's natural.
Yet here I was picking up a pack of the cake. Interesting what passes for "cakes". Bundt cake. Fish Cake. Urinal Cake. Hmmm...and if you ever have bitten into one, Kamaboko tastes sort of like a sea-going eraser.
I grabbed a "loaf" and headed to the cashier. I presented my Kamaboko and my debit card, the cashier looked at me sternly, "Five dollars minimum for debit..." Once again, these stores are not about niceties. It's about function and logic. I grumbled as I headed back into the malaise of pickles, sauces and noodles. Finally, Kamaboko, mochi ice cream and tasty little jelly treats in hand I made it through the cash line.
Tossing the Asian treats into my car I headed out...another exciting adventure accomplished...dear Lord I need a life...
posted by LoneCactus @ 8:49 PM
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