Lost in the Asian Supermarket

Of Music and Food

One of my favorite bands of the 1980s is The Clash, a quirky punk band from England. Rock the Casbah is the song they’re most known for, but I identify with their lesser known Lost in the Supermarket. This is probably because my resume doesn’t include experience rocking out in public squares on the African continent. I have spent my fair share of time, lost or not, rocking out to the sound system in supermarkets. Lost in the Supermarket is my grocery shopping soundtrack. Its deeper meaning has nothing to do with actual grocery shopping, but no matter. It’s fun and I roll with it. But the first lines of lyrics are never more literally applicable than when I’m in an Asian supermarket:

“I’m all lost in the supermarket,

I can no longer shop happily…”

Except I am too curious to be unhappy. I’m surrounded by all manner of strange and exotic foodstuff and though I may be lost, I love the mystery of it all. I used to go to a little Asian store when I was a child (Under the Influence of East Asia), and although I remember wondering about some of the food stuff there, I didn’t fixate on it. It was the teapots, statues, lanterns, and particularly the rice paper candy I remember most.

I continued to venture into Asian markets as I got older. As I did, I started taking notice of the food. Canned and bottled goods, produce, meat and seafood counters, and the frozen and refrigerated foods. A barrage of questions would be running through my head as I wandered the market, “What is that?”, “ How do you pronounce it?”, “How do you cook it?”, “Wait. You eat that?!”

What In The World Is That?!

Take grass jelly, for example. It comes in a can and looks kind of like that ubiquitous and mysterious cranberry stuff Americans buy for their Thanksgiving Day dinner. But is it really made from grass? What does one do with grass jelly? Is it like mint jelly that you eat with lamb? Do you eat grass jelly with squid or something?

Then there were the strange, four to six inch long, conical shaped objects floating around in their mystery liquid. They were both intriguing and repulsive to me. I had no idea what they could possibly be. For the longest time thought they were some type of animal product. I would get the heebe jeebes just looking at them. Not knowing what they were, I couldn’t even begin to fathom how they would be used in cooking. I tried not to think about it anyway.

The most mysterious items were the ones with no English on the packaging. I had no hope of understanding the character writing. I’d stand there flipping the package over repeatedly, as if English would magically appear. Sometimes I’d buy the item to satisfy my curiosity, but even that wouldn’t solve the mystery every time. I might open the package and little freeze dried fish would be staring back at me. Seriously, what do I do with freeze dried fish?!

This One Totally Stumped Me.

There were also non-food items that left me scratching my head in puzzlement. I always was stumped by the packages of cellophane wrapped fake money. I assumed it was fake, though it sometimes looked like it could be real. But who keeps tenable money wrapped in plastic on a store shelf? It was the “Hell Bank Note” inscription across the top of one bundle of bills I once saw that confirmed my suspicions as to this money’s status. I would usually find it over in the aisle with statues of Buddha, candles, and other unfamiliar paper products. I tried to imagine what this money could possibly be used for. Was it part of a game? Did people hand it out as part of an Asian holiday tradition? Was it a decoration?

A Family Tradition Begins

When I married my husband I introduced him to this fun exercise of “Guess What It Is”. When we had children we included them too.

For a two year period our family lived in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania and would venture into the city’s Strip District in search of our favorite Asian market. The Strip District is northeast of the city’s downtown and is home to produce, meat, and seafood wholesalers as well as boutiques, bakeries, and restaurants. It’s a historic and bustling economic center and is a fun and wholesome way to spend a Saturday morning, despite its not-so-wholesome sounding name.  

It was our family’s favorite Saturday morning activity and the Asian supermarket was usually our first stop. We would all split up and wander through the store looking for the most unusual or unidentifiable item and then reconvene at the register to purchase whatever we had found. Sometimes we figured out what an item was. Other times we never did come to an understanding and the mystery remained.

The next city we moved to was Columbus, Ohio, which is more populous than Pittsburgh, with a larger East Asian demographic. The number and size of the Asian supermarkets available reflected this. Within 5 miles of our home are two large Asian supermarkets. We quickly realized two things the first time we walked into one of these markets: 1) we were the demographic minority, and 2) we were in the super Walmart of Asian grocery stores. Never had we seen such a seemingly endless kaleidoscope of products. Suddenly, being lost in the supermarket took on all new meaning.

Can We Get an Asian Supermarket Tour Guide, Please?

We would be wandering lost in the Asian supermarket to this day, except that about 10 months ago Joseph showed up and assumed the role of market tour guide. It’s like having a curator guide you through the Museum of Natural History in Washington D.C. A curator can provide answers and insights about the museum just as Joseph can give us understanding of our Asian market.

It’s fun to go to the Asian supermarket with Joseph and watch him collect the items he needs to make a meal. From getting meat or seafood at those respective counters to searching through the endless bottles on a shelf for the exact sauce or spice he’s looking for, he is confident and sure of himself as he navigates his way through the store. It’s usually just Chloe and I in tow asking questions as he goes and he patiently answers them all.

So THAT’S What It Is! My Greatest Asian Supermarket Mysteries Explained.

It turns out that grass jelly really is made from grass. The stalks and leaves of the Mesona chinensis plant are aged and slightly oxidized. Then they are boiled with potassium carbonate and a little starch for several hours and cooled. It’s typically cut into pieces before being used in such recipes as Honey Jelly Grass Soup. It’s also used in teas and desserts.

I was infinitely relieved the day I learned the creepy looking, conical shaped things floating in liquid are nothing more sinister than bamboo shoots in water. You slice them up and use them in all sorts of dishes from stir fries to soups.

The Hell Bank Notes turned out to be Ghost Money. It’s burned during specific Asian holidays as a memorial and comfort to deceased relatives.

I am still not sure about the freeze-dried fish, although I’m going to find the courage to ask one day soon.

Keep The Explanations Coming

Joseph will often see an item and explain what it is and how it is used. His national pride and fondness for his country is evident when he points out something made in Taiwan. He tells us if it is popular there, or how it reminds him of a specific memory or place.

Sometimes he’ll simply purchase an item and let us sample it on the drive home. Dried plums were one of those items. I passed right by them in the store. They were one of the more unassuming products in the cacophony of bottles and packages clamoring for my attention in the aisle. I can assure you that dried plums are anything but unassuming on the tongue. Instead, they are simultaneously sweet, salty, and sour. I didn’t expect such a flavor punch from a lowly looking piece of dried fruit. But watch out for the pit because, yes, it’s still in there. The pit notwithstanding, there is almost always a container of dried plums in our pantry these days.

The Larger Lesson Of The Asian Supermarket

As the mysteries are explained we feel less lost. Seeing the market through Joseph’s eyes has given us a new appreciation for it and for him. Watching him in the familiarity of this little piece of his Asian culture makes us realize how adaptable Joseph has had to be from a very early age. Making his life here in America has sometimes left him feeling lost in more than just the supermarket, I suspect. I’m certain he’s not the only international student who has felt lost.

But if we all help each other, we can all feel less lost and more connected, and isn’t that the idea anyway? I think the supermarket is a great place to start. Food, like music, is a universal language with variations on a theme. Maybe being lost in the supermarket is a good thing because there is so much potential for being found and for positive change. With that change and the connections it creates I think we can all shop a little more happily. I know I am.