Ode to the Asian Grocer

Shall I compare thee to an Asian Grocer? Thou art less musty and disorganized.

They say love is blind, and they must be right because when I walk inside my local Oriental Supermarket, I don’t see what most people see. In my eyes the listless cashier beams with devotion for their every customer. The threateningly alien cans of vegetables (not even documented in Wikipedia) become cans of long-lost friends. The Japanese consumables covered in Anime beckon to me with their dementedly large eyes and broken English. “Friendship forever has in the smiling cat”.

They know what they’re trying to say, and so do I, and that’s all that matters.

Asian grocers are the modern day Silk Road merchant. Those nomads of old have thrown in their camels and yurts, said goodbye to that unforgiving Mongolian steppe, and have set up camp in Chinatowns the world over. Every time I’m in Ashfield or Cabramatta and I walk by one of these contemporary bazaars I feel incredulous at their unassuming existence. Whether I’m out with friends or on my way to work, their mysterious gravity pulls me in, leaving many an unimpressed companion standing around the refrigerated tofu aisle while I frolic with glee.

What they represent is a reality so exotic and removed from my Asian-less life that it serves as pure escapism. The dried goods section is the most astonishing – every creature from the sea and every berry that once hung from a tree has been plucked and laid bare in the sun, then crammed into ornately labelled plastic packaging. The possibilities of flavour and texture are immense and I lament their cold ambiguousness.

With so many items steeped in mystery, I wonder if I will ever know what they are, let alone find a recipe to put them in, and I can’t help but feel left out. There should be an Asian Grandmother Adoption Program. Or someone should put them on a menu somewhere and educate us, because for all we know they taste better than buttered popcorn and I can’t live in peace knowing that I might be missing out!

It’s not all bizarre though. The variety of ingredients contained within an Asian grocer consists of many that the average Masterchef viewer would be acquainted with. Soy sauce, sesame oil, tofu and shitake mushrooms are nothing too challenging for the ‘Asianised’ westerner.

I have also noticed that over the years the number of more exotic items that I will suddenly recognise and put in my shopping basket is increasing. Tinned Jackfruit, Ginger Lollies and dried Persimmon are just a few. As East meets West, the Asian aisle in the local Coles expands and perhaps one day it will just blend into the rest of the categories.

In the mean time, I wander the aisles in wide-eyed wonder.
So as long as Asian ladies can cook and need to shop, so long lives thou Asian grocer and this gives joy unto me.

By Lena Hattom

Photo: Flickr