Being an immigrant on another continent is very much a give-and-take experience. For me, I personally miss the open spaces and forests that were a normal part of my childhood environment. I have grumpy periods where I need trips to parks where I can hear the wind through the trees. It’s amazing how much the lack of a simple sound can be felt.
One of the major changes is food. I often come across spice blends wor food labeled as “Cajun.” At work, there are often “Cajun potatoes” in the cafeteria. I might here the odd comment of “oh, this is spicy.” Then I try a bite, and it resembles the blandness of instant mashed potatoes with a bit of black pepper (I’m trying to be generous).
I have an Italian colleague who was a chef in Italy, among other things. Talking to him about what he cooked for dinner is like listening to food porn, mouthwatering and intimidating. You could only hope to receive the quality of his cooking from a restaurant. Needless to say, inviting him and his girlfriend for etouffee at my home was incredibly nerve-wracking. (Italians don’t realize how their food has been placed on a well-deserved pedestal of deliciousness). We often commiserate about the poor quality imitations of our respective cultural foodways.
I’m also amused by some restaurants that claim to be Cajun, only to see that they serve crocodile. What I find so amusing is that while crocodiles are in the Americas, Louisiana foods use alligator meat. (I’m really wondering why I’m writing this right now. I think it might be a form of sadomasochism because I can’t have it… F**k……..)
One relief is that Tabasco is apparently a universal, and I can find three types here. I can douse my food with it to my content, though I don’t eat spoonfuls of it without being phased like my mother. My family is also amazing at keeping us in constant supply of Tony Chachere’s (BOW TO THE HOLINESS!!).
Tony’s was one of the first gifts to my partner. I gave it to him the first day I met him. With the green can in his hand, he stared at me like I was nuts. It sat on the table for about a week. Then he made bacon and cheese pannenkoeken (Dutch pancakes). When I tasted my first pannenkoek, I thought “how delicious, but it could use something.” I grabbed the can, asked to open it since it was his gift, sprinkled some over my food, and offered him a bite.
My Dutchman now uses more Tony’s than I do. I am a bit more sparing about it, but he fiends for it. If it’s not in something I’m cooking (as long as it is not something with nutmeg), he will add plenty of it. HE IS A CONVERT TO THE CHURCH OF TONY’S!! It is also an added amusement to watch a guest try Tony’s, then start coughing and going for the water.
Back on topic. If thinking of moving abroad, realize that your food preferences will often be watered-down mimicry. It might be funny, infuriating, or just simply sad. Just make sure to stock up on your necessities if you can.