Sunday, June 24, 2012

Pho Oceanside - Oceanside, CA

Though I know I snark a lot on the relative lack of food scene here in Oceanside, one thing that's nice about living in underdeveloped food country is the potential of it all. Not to mention how it almost forces you to shed some of your cynicism and reframe your expectations so you can be ready and open to being pleasantly surprised, and more easily pleased.




Not that you want to lower standards, necessarily. But when you've lived in and/or have been exposed to more sophisticated or developed food destinations, it's easy to be jaded and underwhelmed and become one of those annoying ubersnarky yelp hipsters in your mind. 

And when you're an almost 40 year old woman, that vintage outfit doesn't look so flattering on you...

Which is why, after about 9 months of living here, I found myself pretty darned excited when I saw that a Vietnamese restaurant was opening up within a 5 minute walk from our house. And driving past it week after week, I crossed my fingers that it would be good. That there would be just one more restaurant in our very small rotation of local restaurants that I could feel good about sending a friend to. Not good for Oceanside, but just good.




And we happily discovered today that Pho Oceanside is indeed good. 



Unless there's some specific reason to, I'm no longer as given to waxing on about the preparation of the food, or to describe it to any appreciable length as I used to be. Usually it just boils down to balance, general execution, freshness of ingredients, service, and general atmosphere anymore. And if I find that all the food ordered was generally well executed, I'm not going to nitpick on the one dish that was underseasoned. If the service was generally friendly, attentive, and accommodating, you're not going to hear about how they forgot the extra bowl of lime wedges I had to order twice. (But hopefully, I'll remember to tell you when something is exceptional and excellent!)



But there weren't even those minimal issues to report today. Everything we ordered today - the pho, goi cuon, cha gio, banh xeo - was good. The service was great, the place was nice and clean, they serve beer and wine, and I detected absolutely none of that MSG ickiness I have just resolved to accept as a fact of life when dining at a new Vietnamese place.

shinae

Pho Oceanside
518 Oceanside Blvd.
Suite 107-108
Oceanside, CA 92054
760.754.2828

Losing Dad, Finding Us...

"Is this your house, Shinae?"

"Yes, Dad."

"Have you lived here long?"

"For about a year."

"And this is the first time I've been here, right?"

"No, Dad. You've been here lots of times."

"Oh."


And then, unlike all those other times when he would fight back at Mom's sometimes gentle, but often understandably exasperated corrections these days - she's the one who lives with him and cares for him 24/7 - he just looked off into the distance for a moment and chuckled at himself.

Not from humor, but from realization and a defeat much greater than that momentary glance and chuckle would let on.

He probably told her he loved her with matchsticks that night... :)

And it was the first time in a long time that I, despite my own lack of empathy for a while now, could see past the ravages of disease in my dad's eyes - now often red, almost filmy, oddly shaped by his stroke from years ago and more recent diabetes related complications, and then almost paralyzed of expression from an artless surgery or two to try to correct them - and recognize emotion with which I could relate. Humility, fear, sadness, loss...

And then what I can always recognize in his voice, gratitude. That I'm not fighting, nor yelling, nor being exhausted and annoyed. Like he often perceives my mom to be when she has to tell him for the enth time that his thoughts, perceptions, memories - his mind - are just WRONG.

No resistance, no disbelief, no argument, no fight. Just, "Oh."

But I'm not the woman who's been working for years, sometimes against hope and often against better sense to keep him not only alive, but healthy.

I'm not the one who has to make him take multiple doses of medication every day that he probably wouldn't even remember or care to take himself even if he were of sound mind. I'm not the one who has to give insulin injections to an unwilling (and, quite frankly, a big baby of a -) subject. I'm not the one who cooks all his meals, trying to ensure that they're healthy, only to have him complain that he'd rather eat any number of other things that seem almost designed to exacerbate one of his many conditions - diabetes, high blood pressure, a heart condition I can't even name at the moment, and all the comorbid shit that comes with them.

I'm not the woman who has to watch the man she married fall apart physically and mentally, feeling that the weight of his health and survival is on my shoulders. I'm not the one who has to bear his remembering one moment how he used to tell her he loved her when they first met by spelling out "I-L-Y" with matchsticks (they barely spoke one another's languages then), and then forgetting what he had for lunch 20 minutes ago, or that he'd even eaten, the next.

That this decay has been taking place over two decades sometimes seems even crueler because it's that much time, and that gradual a decline, that makes you think, hope, even believe some days, that it's not really happening.

But it is.

And at some point, without me realizing it, while it was robbing Dad of his mobility, autonomy, and dignity, and my mother of her husband, it was also robbing me of my ability to remember him in the present what he was like at all before it all started. At some point, the moments of inconvenience, exasperation, and misunderstanding, and their cloudy aftereffects on our family atmosphere began to outweigh and overshadow even the good moments with him in the present.

But somewhere inside I know that there is a gift in Dad's dementia, like there always is in the sad, difficult, and painful lessons in life.

I suspect it has something to do with forgiveness, empathy, compassion, gratitude, priorities, and ultimately, love.

For Dad as he loses himself to it, for Us as we lose him to it, at least in this life.

Time to choose better moments and better memories to matter.

We'll get there.

shinae

Monday, June 18, 2012

Yoohoo!!! I'm over...

...HERE.

Still ridiculous. Still hungry. And now thanks to Pod, also
RIDICULOUSLY HUNGRY. ALL THE TIME.

You wouldn't know it from the crickets on this blog, but I actually have been pretty busy and consistent in posting food content. Just not here.

Hell, I've even posted a few videos! :P

And previously mentioned reasons notwithstanding, one of the big reasons I've been focusing my efforts over there is because of these Cookalongs I've been hosting.

First a Pho Tai Cookalong.





And I hope these Cookalongs are becoming a slow, but hopefully steady realization of the kind of thing I envisioned doing when I first set out to provide low cost cooking classes to as many people as possible.

And I swear I'm not shilling for Google, though I think the Monsters wish I were so they could tell their friends I'm thusly employed... ^-

But I am finding their platform a great way to provide both a real time and yet self paced learning and doing environment that still incorporates a sense of community and cooperation. Not to mention the ability to archive posts for future reference should the actual Cookalong day conflict with the schedule of someone who really wants to learn how to make a thing.

And with the Pod on the way and my steadily acquired preference for an ever so mildly hermitic existence, this virtual format just works for me for now. And I'm hoping it will gain momentum because I actually feel really good about what I'm doing with it.

I'm not shutting down this blog by any means. There are still so many good reasons to keep blogging, and I imagine once the dust is settled, I'll find a better way to balance this with that. But in the meantime, I just wanted to let you know I'm still here - still cooking, eating, and writing. And hoping that, if you're interested in seeing what food-related things I've been up to, or in participating or just watching the Cookalongs, you'll join me over there from time to time. :)

Hasta luego,

shinae

Friday, June 15, 2012

Something About My Medium Asian Papa...

February 1996 - Me 23, Dad 57


Me and my dad at my first wedding shower at my parents' house in Garden Grove. One of the last pics we took together (we weren't much of a picture taking family then) before Dad's health began to take a number of sharp wrong turns - some hereditary, some self inflicted. 

I don't post many pics of him in the present because it breaks my heart to see how his body, and now lately his mind as well, are failing him. Even harder some days because it makes me sad and angry that so much of what he suffers today is a result of self abuse and neglect.

But looking back, I can tell that Dad fought a number of demons, not the least of which were growing up in poverty without a father during the Japanese occupation, and his great talent and potential being neglected for the tradition that put his older brother at the forefront of the family's attention and resources. Not to mention that damned addictive personality and physiology that fueled his excesses for too many years to undo.

Hot tempered and good natured at the same time, a lover of animals, and always driven to create (he built houses and aviaries and water fountains and fish ponds and outdoor decks with a Marlboro hanging out the side of his mouth the whole time), he gave me the gifts of a singing voice, a goofy sense of humor, a persevering sense of fairness and forgiveness, and, despite being a man of few words, many pearls of good and true wisdom that he knew were often beyond his own ability to live.

I wish Life had been kinder to Dad, but for all of what he perceived to be his failures and shortcomings, the things he did for his family ensured that Life was much kinder to me.

Happy Fathers' Day, Dad. I thank you, and I love you. 


shinae