Final Anthology

Introduction:

My assignment blog focused on blog posts that reflect different composition-related topics discussed in class. Most of them are written in narrative format, starting with an anecdote that proves a point later on. Most of my blog posts are written in this form unless they require a certain genre. The underlying theme of the assignment blog is “food, feelings, and film,” the title of the course, because each one pertains to at least one of the words. Most of the blog posts are between 400-600 words long; writing within this word requirement helped develop a writing mindset: to be clear, concise, and to the point. Understanding this particular nature of writing allowed me to write well on longer or graded assignments because I understood the word count is negligible, as long as the same principle is applied. Composition is centered at quality, not quantity. 

The five blog posts I chose are: Strange Skewers and Squid, Confession of a Meat-Lover, the Proust free-write, the Eat Drink Man Woman voiceover, and the pie free-write. The first two are my favorite narratives I wrote over the semester and discuss both cultural and gender identity with relation to cuisine. They focus on “food” and “feelings.” The Proust free-write is also a narrative with a quote taken from Proust’s famous madeleine passage. This piece focuses on “food” and “feelings” as well. The voiceover represents how we learned to take our writing skills and apply it to different types of rhetoric as we progressed through the semester. The voiceover incorporates the “film” aspect of the course. Finally, the pie free-write is an example of a blog post we wrote incorporating all three aspects of the course title; it is also one of my more creative pieces. 

The pieces I chose are arranged from simple to complex: the first two are anecdotes dealing with culture and gender respectively; the third is an anecdote but with a twist: it is not only longer but also incorporates a quote from Proust’s famous madeleine passage; the fourth is written in a different genre: it is voiceover of the beginning scene from Eat Drink Man Woman; the fifth and final post incorporates many aspects of the course: inspiration from a film, feelings, food, creativity, and analysis. 

 - http://chentastico.blogspot.com/2016/12/blog-post-1-strange-skewers-and-squid.html - Strange Skewers and Squid

 - http://chentastico.blogspot.com/2016/12/blog-post-2-confession-of-meat-lover.html - Confession of a Meat-Lover

 - http://chentastico.blogspot.com/2016/12/blog-post-3.html - Proust free-write

 - http://chentastico.blogspot.com/2016/12/blog-post-4-eat-drink-man-woman.html - Eat Drink Man Woman voiceover

 - http://chentastico.blogspot.com/2016/12/blog-post-5-forgotten-feelings-pie.html - Pie free-write

Conclusion: 

Writing blog posts was an effective way of starting off the semester with a lot of writing exercise to help us ease into the class as well as to get familiar with our own style of writing in the long run. They helped us develop strong critical thinking and writing skills because we were assigned blog posts after most lessons so we could concentrate on understanding the lesson shortly after we are introduced to it; this style of teaching helped root that knowledge inside us (for example, we had to write a blog post comparing genre and audience shortly after we learned about both key terms). We also developed our editing skills, and learned to apply them to different genres of writing, a technique I grew more adept with over the semester. 

We wrote in different genres, which allowed us to explore writing further than just a persuasive essay. For example, my voice over started off with “The fish has been gutted, the meat has been breaded, and the kitchen has come alive! Join us, as we witness Mr. Chu preparing his signature dish,” almost like a TV-show. This type of writing is not usually taught, but we were given the opportunity to experiment with it in this course, expanding our composition horizons. Another sentence, “We made promises to each other that night about the goals we wanted; we parted for our cars in the rainy parking lot as the clock struck ten, hoping that each of our promises would be kept. The night passed in an almost magical scene - the rain, the emotions, and the final goodbye,” is symbolic of the class because we learned to express emotion in our sentences, anecdotes, and arguments. Very few times are emotions conveyed in a regular persuasive paper. 

I believe the extent to which we diverted from persuasive English essays was what made this course unique. Even though it’s not labeled a creative writing course, many aspects of the class definitely help improve our understanding, critical thinking, and writing processes when it comes to expressing our thoughts liberally through composition. 

Blog Post 1 - Strange Skewers and Squid

Strange Skewers and Squid:

I knew the restaurant was different the moment I stepped inside. It smelled authentic; a draft of soy and sweet sesame wafted from the kitchen and for a moment, I felt like I was in another country.

The store owner’s wife, a plump lady from Beijing, greeted my friends and me as we took our seats. When the first dish, consisting of beef heart, tongue, and tripe, was brought to the table, my friends, who were foreign students from China and hadn’t eaten good Chinese food in two weeks, dove in like a pack of wolves. 

I stayed still. 

When the skewers came, I hungrily snatched the ones I recognized - beef and squid. But the sight of chicken liver skewers brought my insides to a grinding halt, even if they were sprinkled with the spices I loved.

  At one point in my childhood, I too would have grabbed for those skewers and gobbled them up without a second thought. Growing up in Wisconsin with my parents, both of whom immigrated from China, I was introduced to traditional Chinese cuisine at a young age. The maxim “Chinese people would eat anything under the sun” holds some truth to it; my favorite food at age six was pig feet. I loved everything from its robust, meaty taste to the bone marrow, which I would use a chopstick to pick out and slap onto my tongue. I used to enjoy chicken feet too, cleaning all the cooked skin and scraps from the bones with my teeth. Today, I wouldn’t touch any of them.

Times like these are the moments when I wonder what happened all those years, when a medium-rare steak and sautéed spinach replaced the food from my origins that I used to enjoy. Unlike many other Asian-American families, mine frequented western food chains quite often, Chili’s and Applebee’s for example, where the sight of dishes such as chicken or pig feet would have sent customers out the door. From going to school to eating with friends, I grew accustomed to the “refined” American cuisine - calamari, hamburgers, roasted turkey. Over time, the thought of another pig or chicken foot across my tongue left my mouth quivering rather than salivating. 

  My friends from China refer to me as an “ABC” - an American-Born Chinese. For a long time, I thought that the difference was only between languages. At the restaurant however, I realized that this gap in cultures was probably more significant than I had thought.

When more dishes rolled up to the table - chicken heart, mutton fat - I found myself reaching for the spicy noodles more and more. They were the only dish on the table that I actually recognized. As more and more unrecognizable skewers of meat came to our table, I grimaced. When my friends ordered another round, I told them to add five squid skewers just for me. It might have been bad manners, but I had no choice. 

Even through something as simple as the food we eat, I’ve realized that being an “ABC” has changed me in more ways than one. With that in mind, when the next round of food came, I munched away at the squid skewers, thankful that my taste for exotic seafood hadn’t left me yet. In the end, I ate until I was full. 

But the entire time, I left the chicken livers alone, knowing that my stomach could not handle them. As much as I wished I could enjoy the skewers with my friends, I knew the truth was we were standing on opposite sides of a cliff, joining hands, but not on the same ground anymore.

Blog Post 2 - Confession of a Meat-Lover

Confession of a Meat-Lover

Throughout history, the concept of a human male has been closely intertwined with the idea of “strength” or “raw power.” In my case, this vision directly translated over to my eating habits. In short, I love meat—all kinds of meat. Steak, fish, crab legs, chicken wings; I’m proud to call myself an avid “meat-a-tarian.”

Unfortunately, I was born into the wrong religion. My entire family and relatives are Buddhists. My uncle is a monk who lives in a Chinese temple, where a vegetarian diet is mandatory. Last year, when I travelled back to visit him with my family, I felt a sense of dread approach me. Already, my mother had warned me not to expect much for lunch as we were eating at the temple. I couldn’t help it. The idea of life without sirloins or steamed mussels disgusts me so much I could puke. A world without meat is a world without culinary pleasure…

  At least, that was what I thought before I arrived at Yan Tang Mountain. 

  High in the misty peaks of a mountain range in southern China, I climbed up a life’s worth of stairs and found myself surrounded by damp, red temples, the smell of incense fogging up my nose. Sacred statues stared back at me from the windows. My uncle greeted us warmly and gave us a brief tour of the temple. I thought to myself: I didn’t belong here. The people here were monks. They didn’t eat meat. 

Lunch was served in a prayer room with the Buddha watching over me. All the food was vegetarian. I sat before a soup made from vegetables and vermicelli. I could see the ugly mushrooms staring back at me, the hideous brussels sprouts, and the gloomy bottom of the bowl—clear and meatless. This was sure to be the worst meal of the trip, I thought. Then I tasted the soup. 

My tastebuds jumped a little when the liquid touched my tongue. It didn’t taste icky; it was salty, briny, and delicious. To my surprise, I found myself going up for seconds, thirds, and maybe even a fourth helping. Dumbfounded by the exotic taste composed of seemingly tasteless greens, I couldn’t stop eating until my stomach was round. My parents were probably surprised, but said nothing; they waited until I was finished. 

  I walked out of the temple that day wondering if I had made a mistake. Was meat the end-all, be-all of flavor? Previously, I would have believed so. That meal had challenged my belief however. Was the vegetarian life all as bad as I made it out to be? Perhaps vegans over the years have adopted dishes themselves that satisfied their tastes in ways meat never could. It was a world of food and flavor that I may never get the chance to discover in my entire life.

Today, I am still a Buddhist and a frequent visitor to Steak N’ Shake at the same time. However, the memory of that wonderful dish in the mountains has never faded from the memory of my tongue. 

Blog Post 3 - Proust Free Write - The Taste of Memory

On a rainy night at the racquet club, I had dinner with Jason. With only a few more days left until I boarded my plane for college, I was trying hard not to think about the inevitable transition. The full weight of the future hadn’t hit me yet; I hung on desperately to the glorious days of summer, trying to meet with as many of my friends as possible to keep that feeling of security alive. 

We had a fancy meal of steak and mashed potatoes. The pitter-patter of rain was barely audible outside as we talked under the candlelight, friend to friend, student to student, brother to brother. Our conversations took us outside when we were finished, and our words filled the air with stories and comments about the people we knew around us, the future we had planned for ourselves, and any remaining high school drama that still remained unspoken at the time. 

At one point, when we stood under the eaves of the building, listening to the dance of raindrops in the silent night, Jason leaned in and told me it was okay to change. I told him that wasn’t what others said, and he replied with, “Just be the best version of yourself.”

We made promises to each other that night about the goals we wanted; we parted for our cars in the rainy parking lot as the clock struck ten, hoping that each of our promises would be kept. The night passed in an almost magical scene - the rain, the emotions, and the final goodbye.

Fast forward a few months:

I found myself sitting in the corner of a restaurant by myself, two months into college. The time was 10:34 PM. I was alone as all my friends were out at an event. I scrolled through my text messages, reading through each conversation as if they were a movie. A monster truck hit me in the gut every time I read something fragile. 

Then my order came - steak and potatoes. 

Almost instantly, my mind was triggered back to that rainy night that seemed like years ago. That same feeling of nostalgia came rushing back and I wondered where the times had gone. Already, a few buckets of sweat and tireless hours studying for exams, a few parties, events, and a broken relationship had gone by, and with all the emotions I could feel palpitating somewhere inside me, I thought of Jason.

All the promises we promised each other suddenly hit me and I began to wonder if they were being kept. Two months seemed so long with the twists and turns of college life. Just thinking back to what had been so mesmerizing of a talk back at the racquet club was difficult; I  felt I was reaching into a forbidden past, a bucket of sand, trying to hold onto one scintillating moment that grounded me, and yet coming back empty-handed, or at least, with the sand falling through between my fingers. 

Only when I bit into that meal did I realize: “Undoubtedly what is thus palpitating in the depths of my being must be the image, the visual memory which, being linked to that taste, is trying to follow it into my conscious mind. But its struggles are too far off, too confused and chaotic; scarcely can I perceive the neutral glow into which the elusive whirling medley of stirred-up colours is fused, and I cannot distinguish its form, cannot invite it, as the one possible interpreter, to translate for me the evidence of its contemporary, its inseparable paramour, the taste, cannot ask it to inform me what special circumstance is in question, from what period in my past life.”

Although promises always feel so real when they are made, I wondered at that second if that feeling was only ephemeral, and if so, are promises like that as well? I could still picture that time under the eaves so clearly, with the rain falling and Jason standing next to me, and yet at the same time, it was like a dream.

Perhaps the human condition really is made of one thing—forgetfulness. I don’t define that word as simply losing something important in the mind. Its true meaning is a description of one forever struggling to hold onto the piece of themselves we call time. It is an ungraspable entity for which we chase after endlessly, even though it exists no longer because we are already someone else by the time we remember. 

Blog Post 4 - Eat Drink Man Woman voiceover

Eat Drink Man Woman Voiceover

The fish has been gutted, the meat has been breaded, and the kitchen has come alive!

Join us, as we witness Mr. Chu preparing his signature dish. With over twenty years of experience running his own restaurant, which he took over after his father, Chu is always busy. He is always meticulous and patient with his work. From seeing how quickly he prepares the fish, we can understand that every minute of his lifetime has been poured into such a delicate process as cooking, making sure that every red pepper, every spice, and every tasty ingredient is factored into the final product in their correct amounts, all in the blink of an eye!

He works diligently, without pausing to even take a drink of water. He is used to the heat; it has been his home for most of his life, even as he was a little boy scrubbing pots for his father. Today, he is a Master Chef with three beautiful daughters, each to whom he is preparing this glorious banquet for this day. 

Watch as he steps out of the kitchen now to prepare the next half of the meal. The chicken pen he is walking towards was made by his father over forty years ago and still stands to house chickens today. He grabs one to slaughter, for his greatest dish of the banquet, “Chu’s General Chicken”, must always use fresh meat for the full flavor to be savored. In addition, Chu’s restaurant garnered our attention first because of his commitment to sustainability, that is, raising his own livestock for his dishes. 

It does not take him long to prepare the rest of the meal. By now, the chicken has been prepared and so have all the other ingredients. He puts the buns in the cooker and waits while he puts the rest of his creations on the stove to heat. Squid, steamed buns, rice, and vegetables will soon be ready. At this time, most of the heavy work is over and he can proceed to another task. Although it seems like a long and heavy task has been completed, the day has only begun for Chef Chu...

Source: Eat Drink Man Woman

Blog Post 5 - Forgotten Feelings Pie

This pie is composed of many sweet ingredients. From its cotton candy insides to its frosted surface of M&Ms and sprinkles, the pie is everything one would expect from first dates and trips to the movie theater. But while the pie holds a beautiful exterior, what it hides beneath is less than appetizing. 

The Forgotten Feelings Pie symbolizes a broken love. Although its outside is made of treats and desserts shared on dates, times of bliss, when the pie leaves the oven, it is steaming and looks ready to burst. The sides of the pie are blackened and the skin looks like its about to crumble. The ingredients do not sit well. Decorate the top with large hearings of frosting and draw, using red frosting, a heart in half. Only then is it finished. 

Even though the pie’s ingredients are originally tasty and tantalizing, they have morphed into ashes, used to symbolize how happier times have now become moments of regret and anger. The pie itself bulges at the sides not only because the ingredients are so unorthodox, but because they symbolize all the feelings of repression of emotions one may undergo at the end of a relationship. 

The pie consists of:

• 4 small bags of Valentine’s Day M&Ms

• a bag of popcorn

• hunks of cotton candy

• a few servings of ice cream sundaes

• a cup of coffee

• and dough to mix it all together

Yet by eating the pie, symbolically, one is swallowing his or her past feelings of regret along with the present feelings of fear and uncertainty; he or she is moving forward and looking ahead into the future. Just like the momentary happiness of eating a sweet, tangy pie, feelings of sadness and regret as one undergoes through a broken relationship, are also temporary. In the end, the consumption of the pie is significant because it means all forgotten feelings have been dealt with and the future is still full off opportunities and new adventures, more than just what lies on a single plate. 

Reflection on a piece

The post I’m writing a reflection on is titled “Confession of a Meat-Lover.” It is one of the earliest blog posts I made this semester when we discussed the theme of “gender and food.” Back then, I wrote mainly in the narrative (and I still do). 

This piece’s introduction could use more work. While it is satisfactorily clear, it is not the clearest it could be. The tie between masculinity and strength, along with raw food, is not a clear cut one and could be improved on with an extra paragraph, perhaps giving history and other sources of evidence that can further clarify the distinction. 

The narrative part is smooth and tells a nice story. More senses could be incorporated. 

The ending seems a little abrupt. It could be elaborated on once again with history and other sources of evidence that can draw out the shape of the passage. Evidence can help clarify the argument and strengthen it. 

Overall, the piece, while smooth and descriptive, lacks a degree of substance or well-developed argument that could help flesh it out. 

Faust Writing

On a rainy night at the racquet club, I had dinner with Jason. There were only a few days left before I head off to college. The full blow of that thought hadn’t hit my mind yet; I tried to keep it away. I hung on desperately to the glorious days of summer, trying to meet with as many of my friends as possible to keep that feeling of security alive. 

We had a fancy meal of steak and mashed potatoes. The pitter-patter of rain was barely audible outside as we talked under the candlelight, friend to friend, student to student, brother to brother. We talked under the eaves of the restaurant when we were finished, about everything: the social scene, the future we had planned for ourselves, and any remaining high school drama that still remained unspoken of at the time. We made promises to each other about the goals we wanted and hoped to keep them. The night passed in an almost magical scene - the rain, the emotions, and the final goodbye.

Fast forward a few months:

I found myself sitting in the corner of a restaurant by myself. I am two months into college. The time was 10:34 PM. I was alone as all my friends were out at an event. Already, a few buckets of sweat and tireless hours studying for exams, a few parties, events, and a broken relationship had gone by. My order soon came. Steak and potatoes. 

My mind was triggered back to that rainy night that seemed like years ago. That same feeling of nostalgia came rushing back and I wondered where the time had gone. All the promises we promised each other led me to wonder if they were being kept. Two months seemed so long with the twists and turns of college life, almost as if I were reaching into a past, trying to hold onto some moment that grounded me, and yet coming back empty-handed, or at least, with the sand falling through between my fingers:

Undoubtedly what is thus palpitating in the depths of my being must be the image, the visual memory which, being linked to that taste, is trying to follow it into my conscious mind. But its struggles are too far off, too confused and chaotic; scarcely can I perceive the neutral glow into which the elusive whirling medley of stirred-up colours is fused, and I cannot distinguish its form, cannot invite it, as the one possible interpreter, to translate for me the evidence of its contemporary, its inseparable paramour, the taste, cannot ask it to inform me what special circumstance is in question, from what period in my past life.

Pie Post - Forgotten Feelings Pie

This pie is composed of everything sweets. From its cotton candy insides to its frosted exterior with M&Ms, it is everything one would expect from first dates, or trips to the movie theater. 

The pie consists of:

• 4 small bags of Valentine’s Day M&Ms
• a bag of popcorn
• hunks of cotton candy
• a few servings of ice cream sundaes
• a cup of coffee
• and dough to mix it all together

When the pie is out of the oven, it is steaming and looks ready to burst. The sides of the pie are blackened and the skin looks like its about to crumble. Decorate the top with large hearings of frosting and draw, using red frosting, a heart across the top in half. 

This pie is used to symbolize a love that has been broken. The insides are made from the foods one and his or her significant other has shared before in the past. Happier times have now become moments of regret and anger. The pie itself bulges at the sides not only because the ingredients are so unorthodox, but because they symbolize all the feelings of repression of emotions one may undergo at the end of a relationship. 

By eating the pie, symbolically, one is swallowing those fears and pains; he or she is moving forward and looking ahead. 

First Draft for Food Blog Revisions

For my first Food Blog draft, I talked about Fugu and the controversy the dish has caused in Japan over whether farm-raised Fugu without poison should be allowed or not.

My peer reviewer suggested that I add more descriptions that match the narrative I tell through the blog post. In addition, he suggested that I add more about the effects of Fugu-poisoning and more specific details about preparing Fugu.

Overall, my post needs more descriptions and information from my sources to further flesh it out.




For my second Food Blog draft, I talked about Anisakiasis, an infection that can result from eating raw fish.

My peer reviewer said that the information I incorporated in my post is very interesting and overall, quite alluring. However, he pointed out that the piece lacks a central argument. The piece is more informative than argumentative. My peer reviewer also pointed out that the ordering in my blog could be better: I could talk about how I love eating raw food first, then gradually transition to the narrative, and then the argument. I agree.

Overall, this piece has the information, but needs a cohesive argument to bring the pieces together.

Photo Essay - Trains and Truth

The battle between technological advances and nature is an ongoing debate in the modern world. Progress in transportation is no different. In some countries, large-scale highways, monster bridges, and high-speed railroad lines span natural scenes, filling them with motion, innovation, wires, and machine power. With our eyes glued to the newest breakthroughs in engineering, we sometimes forget the beauty that is omnipresent in natural, untarnished places, our minds instead filled with the idea of progression, power, and potency. One way of viewing this can be expressed by watching the world from trackside. Nature's beauty will never cease, even when viewed through the world of horsepower, grimy locomotives, and heavy railroads.

Photo 1: https://www.flickr.com/photos/milwaukeerailfan/28818836722/in/dateposted/

#flowerpower

Photo 2: https://www.flickr.com/photos/milwaukeerailfan/29475046886/in/dateposted/

#beastintheshadows

Photo 3: https://www.flickr.com/photos/milwaukeerailfan/28827631705/in/dateposted/

#size

Photo Essay Process Information:

 The photos were taken with a progression of technology followed up with resistance from nature in mind. Photo one shows plainly a locomotive cutting through a blooming forest. Photo two shows a train as well as buildings hidden among the wonderful fall colors. Photo three shows even more man-made units - the train, the cars, the wires and poles - and even still, nature's beauty permeates through the scene. Colors are used to help aid thesis and information processing. 

Edited Voiceoever

The fish has been gutted, the meat has been breaded, and the kitchen has come alive! Join us, as we witness Mr. Chu as he prepares his signature dish. With over twenty years of experience running his own restaurant which he took over after his father, Chu is always busy and meticulous with his work. From seeing how quickly he prepares the fish, we can already see every minute of his lifetime poured into such a delicate process as cooking, making sure that every red pepper, every spice, and every tasty ingredient is factored into the final product in their correct amounts, all in the blink of an eye!

He works diligently, without pausing to even take a drink of water. He is used to the heat; it has been his home for most of his life, even as he was a little boy scrubbing pots for his father. Today, he is a Master Chef with three beautiful daughters, each to whom he is preparing this glorious banquet for this day. 

Watch as he steps out of the kitchen now to prepare the next half of the meal. The chicken pen he is walking towards was made by his father over forty years ago and still stands to house chickens today. He grabs one to kill for the meal, for his greatest dish of the banquet, “Chu’s General Chicken”, must use fresh meat for the full flavor to be savored. Chu’s restaurant garnered our attention first because of his commitment to sustainability, that is, raising his own livestock for his dishes. 

It does not take him long to prepare the rest of the meal. By now, the chicken has been prepared and so have all the other ingredients. He puts the buns in the cooker and waits while he puts the rest of his creations on the stove to heat. Squid, steamed buns, rice, and vegetables will soon be ready. At this time, most of the heavy work is over and he can proceed to another task. Although it seems like a long and heavy task has been completed, the day has only begun for Chef Chu...

Source: Eat Drink Man Woman

Voiceover of Opening Scene from Eat Drink Man Woman

The fish has been gutted; the meat has been breaded; and the kitchen has come alive! Join us, as we witness Mr. Chu as he prepares his signature dish. With over twenty years of experience running his own restaurant which he took over after his father, Chu is always busy and meticulous with his work. From seeing how quickly he prepares the fish, we can already see every minute of his lifetime poured into such a delicate process as cooking, making sure that every red pepper, every spice, and every tasty ingredient is factored into the final product in their correct amounts, all in the blink of an eye!

He works diligently, without pausing to even take a drink of water. He is used to the heat; it has been his home for most of his life, even as he was a little boy scrubbing pots for his father. Today, he is a Master Chef with three beautiful daughters, each to whom he is preparing this glorious banquet for this day. 

Watch as he steps out of the kitchen now to prepare the next half of the meal. The chicken pen he is walking towards was made by his father over forty years ago and still stands to house chickens today. He grabs one to kill for the meal, for his greatest dish of the banquet, “Chu’s General Chicken”, must use fresh meat for the full flavor to be savored. Chu’s restaurant garnered our attention first because of his commitment to sustainability, that is, raising his own livestock for his dishes. 

It does not take him long to prepare the rest of the meal. By now, the chicken has been prepared and so have all the other ingredients. He puts the buns in the cooker and waits while he puts the rest of his creations on the stove to heat. At this time, most of the heavy work is over and he can proceed to another task. Thus ends the busiest moment of a day in the life of Chef Chu. 

Source: Eat Drink Man Woman

Reflection on Proposal Review

My Food Blog proposal was on: Raw Dishes. 

My reviewer, Thalia, said that it was “important that you are also including a counterargument - focusing on people who love and hate raw food really strengthens your argument.” In reflection, bringing up the argument on both sides was an idea that occurred to me only on a whim. Yet, for someone to have taken notice of it reminded me that counterarguments are indeed important. It provides room for both sides of an opinion and gives an argument more dimension. 

Thalia said that I should mention why “ethos and pathos are important appeals to address in your blog post?” She raises a very good point. Ethos and pathos are important to address because they are primary methods to connect an author with a reader, making a passage come alive more. When one can invest himself or herself into an argument, he or she will be able to understand and believe it more. 

Thalia also asked what tones I would develop in my writing. I will take a modest tone, one that is open to both sides of an argument while still remaining true to one clear point. I believe this is the best way to take a blog post so that all readers will not be offended, and many viewpoints can be well analyzed instead of just one. Although some say that it is better to focus an argument, I believe showing all sides to an argument can offer more room for liberal thought and inspiration for other ideas. 

Buzzfeed Video Review

I watched the videos titled “Chinese People Try Panda Express for the First Time" and "Australians try Australian-American Food."

Panda Express is a fast-food chain that is known to serve Chinese or oriental dishes. It is often looked down upon my tourists or Chinese-Americans since many claim it is not authentic Chinese food. 

In the video, many of the tasters express some of the same concerns. The food is usually subpar, such as the eggrolls and the chow mien, which one taster quotes to “smell like feet.” To my surprise however, a couple of the people said that the food actually wasn’t bad. It was interesting to see each viewpoint expressed because each person, although from the same ethnic origins, presented a different opinion. 

Some brought up an interesting point: to Chinese people who grew up and lived in China and had the opportunity to eat food overseas, the dishes at Panda Express may be mediocre. But for “Americanized-Chinese” food, it’s decent. Others taste the dishes as if they were authentic Chinese dishes and usually end up giving a less-than-mediocre review. Standards are different among the crowd and that led to a greater variety and depth to the answers. 

The video brings up another neat aspect of food in different countries: when one of the tasters picked up the Orange chicken, she said it wasn’t even Chinese food. I am reminded of how there are many “typical Chinese dishes and toppings” that aren’t even remotely close to the actual thing, for example fortune cookies and Siracha. Every time I see a fortune cookie, I am reminded of how quickly we come to some conclusions about the history and origins of food without ever taking the time to research and find out the answer for real. Although the video is mostly for comedic appeal, it raises some very important points about the different cultures interwoven in the bites we take at restaurants. 

Australians trying Outback Steakhouse also had disagreements about how the food came off. However, the overall message was clear: although Outback serves passable food, it is not authentic Australian food. In fact, Outback is even further from the authentic nature of its namesake than Panda Express is; Outback is basically an American steakhouse, whereas Panda Express at least retains some of its ethnic background in its dishes. 

Overall, both stores confirm the idea that while food chains that seem to portray a sense of serving regional dishes exist, not many of them remain 100% authentic. Perhaps this is an effort to garner more customers by sacrificing authenticity for taste and cutting costs. 


- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bJwfyg27wHI&feature=youtu.be
- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fo59LlkTDe4

Ethnography

Ethnography:

Background:

Cox Hall is a cafeteria located on Emory University’s campus near Asbury Circle. It is open from 6:30 AM to 7:00 PM on weekdays (breakfast - 6:30 AM to 10 AM, lunch - 11 AM to 3 PM, dinner - 5 PM to 7 PM). The cafeteria consists of ten eateries: ITP Deli, Freshens, Maru, C3, Green Bean, Twisted Taco, Pasta John’s, Beltline Pizza, Dooley’s Farm, and Char’d House. 

Observation:

I visited Cox Hall for the first time on September 23rd at 6:30 PM. 

My first experience going to Cox Hall was to meet up with someone. Not so great of an idea! How so? The seats, though cushioned with vivid padding and clean, were tightly-spaced. The dinner time was a rush and I couldn’t seem to locate a single familiar face among the crowds of people either seated or waddling like penguins through the sea of conversations. In fact, I barely recognized my friend when he came towards me; my eyes could not sort through the crowd fast enough. 

That brings me to my second point. Cox Hall is packed during its hours. Part of this reason is because many students are tired of eating at the Dobbs University Center (DUC). Another reason is because many professionals and students from the Medical School also come to Cox Hall for their meals. All these total up to a large influx of more than just students trying to grab a bite of food at this dining location. 

Indeed, the variety of food choices was better than the regular cafeteria. The Cox Hall eateries served tacos, pizza, different cultural dishes, and fresh salads. However, even with those choices, I was not able to pinpoint anything to buy. I ended up settling for the last box of sushi which only turned out to be satisfactory. It felt strange that with so many choices I still ended up buying something that I could have bought elsewhere on campus. 

Interview:

I interviewed Ben He, a freshman who frequents Cox Hall twice a month, about his thoughts on Cox Hall. He says that he does not believe Cox Hall promotes a culture of sustainability, saying, “they are using plastic bowls and other non-recyclable items.” He says most of the food isn’t very good, and that his favorites are the “Asian dishes and sushi.” When asked about the environment, he says it is “crowded and the lines are too long. A zero to one out of ten stars on the ‘would you take someone on a date there’ scale.” Overall, he was not very impressed. 

Conclusion:

Cox Hall is a cafeteria that offers a different variety of food. However, with the new variety, there comes the cost of long lines and longer waiting time. Although I was anticipating some better food at Cox Hall, I was left feeling empty. Perhaps I am an exception and just didn't find my tastes to match those of the eateries. 

Class Activity - Hosting a Party

For the small party, I would cook Shrimp Lo Mein, a dish of Scallops and scallions, fried rice, and Root Beer Floats.

The shopping list would include: 2 lb. bag of frozen shrimp, 1 lb. thai thin noodles, bottles of soy sauce and mushroom soy sauce, scallions, 1 lb. bag of scallops, Nishiki Premium 15 lb. rice, 12-pack of Mug Root Beer, Blue Bunny Vanilla Ice Cream, cooking oil, rice cooker, cups  - $134.56.

Procedure:

Place: Turmilton Kitchen

First, I would prepare the Lo Mein. Thaw the shrimp and cut them up into little pieces. Boil the noodles in water until they turn soft. Cook the rice in a rice cooker until it is ready. Thaw scallops.

Turn the stove on and pour a bit of Mushroom Soy Sauce and Cooking oil into the pan. Once the pan starts sizzling, dump the shrimp in. Five seconds later, pour in the noodles and begin stirring. In two minutes, I add regular Soy Sauce. Stir and fry for about 4 minutes and the dish should be ready to pour out onto a large plate.

Secondly, I would start the fried rice dish. Using the same pan, repeat the starting procedure for cooking the Lo Mein, except this time add rice (and shrimp if there is any left). Cook/stir for about five minutes and it should be ready. Add sparing amounts of soy sauce in the process.

Thirdly, repeat the same process for the thawed scallops. Add in the scallions before putting the scallops into the pan. Cook until the scallops turn soft.

And finally, prepare Root Beer Floats with the ice cream and soda, and pour into cups.

The theme is more of like: My Favorite Dishes. Lo Mein and Fried Rice are Chinese style and Root Beer Floats and Scallops are more "westernized."

Eating Local

A scene from Gary Paulsen’s novel Hatchet comes to mind when I think of “eating local.” In one scene, the main character Brian Robeson stares at the aisles of cans and packaged foods in bewilderment after spending a few years providing for himself in the Canadian wilderness. 

Although to a lesser extent, my personal view of “eating local” is similar. Eating local means more than just consuming food that is produced a short distance away; it means eating freshly-grown produce and surviving on one’s own - sustainability. Eating local helps promote sustainability practices on farms and other areas where the food is grown for a small population. 

Back in China, some of my relatives live off the land in rural towns (such as those in Wenling). They produce their own greens, catch their own fish, peel their own shrimp, and shuck their own clams. When I visited, I actually found it surprising that some of the local stores had packaged goods; they just didn’t seem to connect with the environment and culture there. Moreover, many of the older men and women still spent hours cleaning vegetables and/or reaping their produce from the fields. 

Overall, “eating local” and the sustainability lifestyle is very different from the modern restaurant - grocery store eating norm we are used to today. 

Comparison of Articles

The articles I am comparing are Tanya Basu’s Here’s Why Salads Feel Feminine and Nachos Seem Manly” and Sandip Roy’s “India’s War On Biryani Mixes Caste, Religion, Cow-Avenging Vigilantes!” 

Basu’s articles focuses mostly on Secondary Sources as the primary piece of evidence. For example, he says, “Zhu and his team asked 93 adults which foods they considered masculine and feminine…the results showed, unsurprisingly, that there was a significant tie to food and gender perception.” He summarizes the results from a study but doesn’t use information directly from the study, hence rendering the evidence secondary. On the other hand, Roy’s article on biryani relies on Primary Sources through interviews. Summaries of what another person said, such as “he said 70 to 80 percent of them were just anti-socials, anyway, in the garb of cow protectors” are used as well; however, overall, Roy’s article used more Primary Sources. 

Sources: 

- Roy, Sandip. "India's War On Biryani Mixes Caste, Religion, Cow-Avenging Vigilantes." NPR. NPR, 12 Sept. 2016. Web. 18 Sept. 2016.

- Basu, Tanya. "Here's Why Salads Feel Feminine and Nachos Seem Manly." Time. Time, 11 Sept. 2015. Web. 18 Sept. 2016.

Confession of a Meat-Lover

Throughout history, the concept of a human male has been closely intertwined with the idea of “strength” or “raw power.” In my case, this vision directly translated over to my eating habits. In short, I love meat—all kinds of meat. Steak, fish, crab legs, chicken wings; I’m proud to call myself an avid “meat-a-tarian.”

Unfortunately, I was born into the wrong religion. My entire family and relatives are Buddhists. My uncle is a monk who lives in a Chinese temple, where a vegetarian diet is mandatory. Last year, when I travelled back to visit him with my family, I felt a sense of dread approach me. Already, my mother had warned me not to expect much for lunch as we were eating at the temple. I couldn’t help it. The idea of life without sirloins or steamed mussels disgusts me so much I could puke. A world without meat is a world without culinary pleasure…

At least, that was what I thought before I arrived at Yan Tang Mountain. 

High in the misty peaks of a mountain range in southern China, I climbed up a life’s worth of stairs and found myself surrounded by damp, red temples, the smell of incense fogging up my nose. Sacred statues stared back at me from the windows. My uncle greeted us warmly and gave us a brief tour of the temple. I thought to myself: I didn’t belong here. The people here were monks. They didn’t eat meat. 

Lunch was served in a prayer room with the Buddha watching over me. All the food was vegetarian. I sat before a soup made from vegetables and vermicelli. I could see the ugly mushrooms staring back at me, the hideous brussels sprouts, and the gloomy bottom of the bowl—clear and meatless. This was sure to be the worst meal of the trip, I thought. Then I tasted the soup. 

My tastebuds jumped a little when the liquid touched my tongue. It didn’t taste icky; it was salty, briny, and delicious. To my surprise, I found myself going up for seconds, thirds, and maybe even a fourth helping. Dumbfounded by the exotic taste composed of seemingly tasteless greens, I couldn’t stop eating until my stomach was round. My parents were probably surprised, but said nothing; they waited until I was finished. 

I walked out of the temple that day wondering if I had made a mistake. Was meat the end-all, be-all of flavor? Previously, I would have believed so. That meal had challenged my belief however. Was the vegetarian life all as bad as I made it out to be? Perhaps vegans over the years have adopted dishes themselves that satisfied their tastes in ways meat never could. It was a world of food and flavor that I may never get the chance to discover in my entire life.

Today, I am still a Buddhist and a frequent visitor to Steak N’ Shake at the same time. However, the memory of that wonderful dish in the mountains has never faded from the memory of my tongue. 

Strange Skewers and Squid [REVISED]

Steven Chen

September 2nd, 2016

ENG101-005

Strange Skewers and Squid

I knew the restaurant was different the moment I stepped inside. It smelled authentic; a draft of soy and sweet sesame wafted from the kitchen and for a moment, I felt like I was in another country.

The store owner’s wife, a plump lady from Beijing, greeted my friends and me as we took our seats. When the first dish, consisting of beef heart, tongue, and tripe, was brought to the table, my friends, who were foreign students from China and hadn’t eaten good Chinese food in two weeks, dove in like a pack of wolves. I stayed still. When the skewers came, I hungrily snatched the ones I recognized - beef and squid. But the sight of chicken liver skewers brought my insides to a grinding halt, even if they were sprinkled with the spices I loved.

At one point in my childhood, I too would have grabbed for those skewers and gobbled them up without a second thought. Growing up in Wisconsin with my parents, both of whom immigrated from China, I was introduced to traditional Chinese cuisine at a young age. The maxim “Chinese people would eat anything under the sun” holds some truth to it; my favorite food at age six was pig feet. I loved everything from its robust, meaty taste to the bone marrow, which I would use a chopstick to pick out and slap onto my tongue. I used to enjoy chicken feet too, cleaning all the cooked skin and scraps from the bones with my teeth. Today, I wouldn’t touch any of them.

Times like these are the moments when I wonder what happened all those years, when a medium-rare steak and sautéed spinach replaced the food from my origins that I used to enjoy. Unlike many other Asian-American families, mine frequented western food chains quite often, Chili’s and Applebee’s for example, where the sight of dishes such as chicken or pig feet would have sent customers out the door. From going to school to eating with friends, I grew accustomed to the “refined” American cuisine - calamari, hamburgers, roasted turkey. Over time, the thought of another pig or chicken foot across my tongue left my mouth quivering rather than salivating. 

My friends from China refer to me as an “ABC” - an American-Born Chinese. For a long time, I thought that the difference was only between languages. At the restaurant however, I realized that this gap in cultures was probably more significant than I had thought; when more dishes rolled up to the table - chicken heart, mutton fat - I found myself reaching for the spicy noodles more and more. They were the only dish on the table that I actually recognized. As more and more unrecognizable skewers of meat came to our table, I grimaced. When my friends ordered another round, I told them to add five squid skewers just for me. It might have been bad manners, but I had no choice. 

Even through something as simple as the food we eat, I’ve realized that being an “ABC” has changed me in more ways than one. With that in mind, when the next round of food came, I munched away at the squid skewers, thankful that my taste for exotic seafood hadn’t left me yet. In the end, I ate until I was full. But the entire time, I left the chicken livers alone, knowing that my stomach could not handle them. As much as I wished I could enjoy the skewers with my friends, I knew the truth was we were standing on opposite sides of a cliff, joining hands, but not on the same ground anymore.

Summary of Introduction: Feeding an Identity - Gender, Food, and Survival

Norma Baumel Joseph’s piece: Feeding an Identity - Gender, Food, and Survival, focuses on exposing the relationship between Jewish food, religion, and the identity of women throughout history. Joseph argues that food holds anthropologic value because we as humans have to eat; therefore, the changing of foods can reveal historical and identity-related importance. He explains how “food is a preservation of tradition” (8) and how “eating enables simultaneous participation in the past and present” (8), to set up his challenge about why “kitchen Judaism” (8) is frowned upon if food is so central to the human experience. By portraying the importance of food and kitchen life, Joseph argues that the lives of women in the kitchen, commonly unnoticed, deserves recognition, not just through their work but also through their identities. He says that in the “Jewish realm,” women were thought of in small roles, “barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen” (11). Now, their roles are beginning to be unearthed. He cites evidence from different researchers about the cultural, ethnic, and religious ties between food and women, ultimately claiming that “ethnic identity is intimately tied to food habits - and this it he realm of women’s control, productivity and creativity” (12). In other words, Joseph claims “the power of women has often derived from the power of food” (11). He concludes that food is indeed a connecting piece between “all aspects of the human existence” and that the power of women, who are involved with “preparing and serving” food is an important topic for future discussion. 

A Dish with No Rules

Although I am by no means a world-famous chef in Beijing, I pretend like I am one when standing before the stove at home. A stack of straight noodles stand like popsicle sticks to my left, and to my right, crab meat, scallions, and two bottles of soy sauce lie ready for action at any moment. The stage is set. 

What I’m making is Lo Mein. The Oxford Dictionary holds no definition for Lo Mein, but Wikipedia describes it as: a Chinese dish with wheat flour noodles. It often contains vegetables and some type of meat or seafood, usually beef, chicken, pork, shrimp or wontons.

In my eyes, no Lo Mein is eaten without seafood. I fully believe that everything tastes better with some tangy crab meat, succulent shrimp, or tasty mussels. And to top it off, an American twist on this Chinese dish by adding Siracha to the dish once it is finished. I call it…Chen’s Spicy, Seafood Combo, with Lo Mein! Now, let’s get started:

• First, set the fire on the stove to its strongest and pour the cooking oil into the pan along with a few drops of mushroom soy sauce. Let it all simmer until they begin to crackle and pop. That’s the starting signal. 
• Secondly, drop your ingredients into the pan—the crab meat, the mussels, the scallions, whatever vegetables you want, and maybe even some beef. Stir them well. You should hear the pan roaring like a lion at this point.
• The third step is the most crucial—drop your bowl of previously-boiled noodles into the frying pan and break them up, making sure each inch of each strand gets a chance to taste the fire from the stove. 
• Stir all ingredients well, especially the seafood you choose to use; it must be cooked thoroughly. Keep stirring for a straight five minutes. After that, the act has come to a close. When the meal is done, pour everything out onto a separate plate.
• Finally, make a smiley face on top with Siracha. Then mix it into the noodles until you cannot see the red sauce anymore, but only smell it through the spicy, nostril-filling aroma it gives off. 

The result? I enjoy the meal every time, perhaps more so than if I had eaten at a five-star restaurant. A fraction of my satisfaction comes from the fact I made the dish myself; the other portion of my giddiness comes from Lo Mein’s dynamic nature. The dish’s main criteria consists of the noodles, but after that, one can add anything to it. Seafood. Meat. Oyster Sauce. Although my style is to combine noodles with seafood, I appreciate how different the meal can be depending on who the cook is. 

Creativity in changing meals, taking risks (in my case, through adding seafoods of all kinds along with Siracha), and being “hungry” for new tastes and attempts has composed this dish over the years. Even through something as simple as Lo Mein, the combinations are still infinite. One day, I may choose to use the Louis Kemp crabmeat sitting in the fridge, and the next day, I could choose to use leftover scallops from a night out at a restaurant…

But I never know until the minute I start cooking.

Audience Vs. Genre

In literary context, the terms “audience” and “genre” are closely linked with one another. When we speak of one term, we often indirectly mention the other. For example, if we say we are writing for the audience of teenage, high-school boys, most of the time, our works will fall into the genres of epics, novels, and short stories. While it is not always so, we tend to group the two terms into their individual categories subconsciously. 

Similarly, when we mention a certain “genre,” we also hint at a certain intended audience. Using the same example of the high-school boys, when we mention the “genre” of Classical works (such as The Great Gatsby, Catcher in the Rye, etc.) and/or genre of science-fiction novels, our minds automatically seem to group those stories with the audience of high-schoolers. If we mention the genre of letters or reviews, we automatically come up with a different type of “audience” in our heads.

I think “audience” and “genre” are tied together more subconsciously than we think, and as a result, influence our writing. Such stories that can be considered “cliche” are often a result of this phenomenon, as many writers “think” that a certain genre has to be written in a certain way in order to please the intended audience. With that in mind, I believe we should never be afraid to take risks in writing, as doing so will be more likely to result in an eye-catching piece. 

Amazon Review Blog

The typical audience of an Amazon Review are the customers who wish to buy a product, but want to check up on what others who previously purchased such product thought of it. Reviews offer “proof” of whether the advertisements are really true or not, or if the quality of a product is as good as it seems. The “customer review” genre generally entails a paragraph or two explaining a customer’s experience with the product, how he got to buy it, pros and cons of it, and a final recommendation on whether to buy it fast or check other options first. The reviews are aimed at informing future customers about their experiences so that other customers can make better decisions about their purchases. 

I chose to analyze the review of Tuscan Dairy Milk titled “What do you mean I can’t bring my milk???” 

Link: https://www.amazon.com/review/R1WQS8H0LTDF9B/ref=cm_cr_dp_title?ie=UTF8&ASIN=B00032G1S0&channel=detail-glance&nodeID=16310101&store=grocery

The review was written by Kevin and features a short, humorous anecdote about being held up at the security gate by a TSA officer because he had a gallon of milk in his luggage. He is forced to throw out his nail clippers and the milk. However, although Kevin discards the nail clippers with ease, saying, “That’s alright, they sell them for a dollar at the store next to my departure gate,” he refuses to do the same with the Tuscan milk, choosing instead to “drink it now…the entire gallon…while the people behind me grew increasingly impatient.” His actions suggest that the Tuscon Milk is so irresistible he cannot let it go to waste, preferring to chug it down in its entirety at such a place. Kevin also ridicules the 3-ounce rule for liquids to glorify the gallon of milk, saying he did not know that “Tuscan Whole Milk was so powerful [that it could potentially bring down a plane].” Of course, the audience knows the truth—Tuscan Whole Milk cannot bring down any plane. But they get a kick out of Kevin’s sarcasm. His humor helps connect himself—a random reviewer—with the readers in order to make a point. He also writes with a strong hook. Rather than saying something trite as “in this review, I will…”, he starts off in media res, “I approached the Airport Security Gate and fed my bags into the x-ray machine.” 

Kevin’s review targets the same audience of Amazon customers, but in a different way. His review is not as much informative as it is humorous, eye-catching, witty, and sarcastic. In other words, it belongs more to the “creative” genre than the “informative, review-style” genre; satire rather than analysis. From paragraph spacing to set his sentences apart in a distinct way to narrating his story, his review stands out from many others and most likely succeeds at catching the eyes of other customers online. Other than that, Kevin’s review is also targeted at the occasional, bored reader who scrolls through the reviews looking for something interesting; Kevin’s review does not focus on the “important” aspects of Tuscan Whole Milk—taste, color, quality, freshness, etc.—but instead on the story and wit, further reinforcing the point that his review is more of a creative than an analytical piece. 

ENG101-005 Rough Draft:

I knew the restaurant was different the moment I stepped inside. It smelled authentic; a draft of soy and sweet sesame wafted from the kitchen and for a moment, I felt like I was in another country.

The store owner’s wife, a plump lady from Beijing, greeted my friends and me as we took our seats. When the first dish, consisting of beef heart, tongue, and tripe, was brought to the table, my friends, who were foreign students from China and hadn’t eaten good Chinese food in two weeks, dove in like a pack of wolves. I stayed still. When the skewers came, I hungrily snatched the ones I recognized - beef and squid. But the sight of chicken liver skewers brought my insides to a grinding halt, even if they were sprinkled with the spices I loved.

It was strange because at one point, I too would have grabbed for those skewers and gobbled them up without a second thought. Growing up in Wisconsin with my parents, both of whom immigrated from China, I was introduced to traditional Chinese cuisine at a young age. The maxim “Chinese people would eat anything under the sun” holds some truth to it; my favorite food at age six was pig feet. I loved everything from its robust, meaty taste to the bone marrow, which I would use a chopstick to pick out and slap onto my tongue. I used to enjoy chicken feet too, cleaning all the cooked skin and scraps from the bones with my teeth. Today, I wouldn’t touch any of them.

Times like these are the moments when I wonder what happened all these years, when a medium-rare steak and sautéed spinach replaced the food from my origins that I used to enjoy. Unlike many other Asian-American families, mine frequented western food chains quite often, Chili’s and Applebee’s for example, where the sight of dishes such as chicken or pig feet would have sent customers out the door. From going to school to eating with friends, I grew accustomed to the “refined” American cuisine - calamari, hamburgers, roasted turkey. Over time, the thought of another pig or chicken feet in my mouth left my mouth quivering rather than salivating. 

My friends from China refer to me as an “ABC” - an American-Born Chinese. For a long time, I thought that the difference was only between languages. At the restaurant however, I realized that this gap in cultures was probably more significant than I had thought—when more dishes rolled up to the table - chicken heart, mutton fat - I found myself reaching for the spicy noodles more and more—the only food still on the table that I actually recognized. As more and more unrecognizable skewers of meat came to our table, I grimaced. When my friends ordered another round, I told them to add five squid skewers just for me. It might have been bad manners, but I had no choice. 

Even through something as simple as the food we eat, I’ve realized that being an “ABC” has changed me in more ways than one. As much as I wished I could enjoy the chicken liver skewers with my friends, I knew the truth was we were standing on opposite sides of a cliff, joining hands, but not on the same ground anymore. 

With that in mind, when the next round of food came, I munched away at the squid skewers, thankful that my taste for exotic seafood hadn’t left me yet. In the end, I ate until I was full. But the entire time, I left the chicken livers alone, knowing reluctantly that my stomach could not handle those foods, or any more of the pig and chicken feet I used to love, no matter how good they tasted.