Khao Man Gai (Chicken and Rice) @ Nong’s Khao Man Gai in Portland, OR
Nong’s food cart is an American Dream story. She moved to the States from Thailand and saved up to open her food cart, and it has been a huge success. She only has one thing on her menu - khao man gai, which is the Thai version of Hainan Chicken and Rice. I totally did not expect this in Portland, let alone at a food cart, and it was super delicious!
If you ever happen to stop by or pass through Crescent City, you have to meet Patree. She is the sweet, hip, and smart grandmother you wish you had. She is also super knowledgeable about the Redwoods (she goes every day!). So if you’re there to visit, you need to call her.
Jonathan and I stumbled across Patree’s place on AirBnB when we were planning our road trip. It was by far one of the best decisions we made. She made us fresh homemade pizza and quick breads, took us on a personal tour of the Jedediah Smith State Park, and treated us like family.
The white sourdough pizza was so good that we took the leftovers for the road. It was a combination of pineapple, banana peppers, and white cheddar, now my new favorite combo of pizza toppings. The sourdough crust was made from scratch with a sourdough starter over a hundred years old! It was so cool. She was SO cool.
But her house is what stands out the most. At the dead end of a dull street, the road opens up to an expanse of grass and hydrangeas silhouetting the bright orange and red paint of her house. Patree is obsessed with lips, and the house is decorated with lips all over - my favorite being a cookie cutter in her kitchen (you’ll just have to look for it when you’re there).
The last time I was in San Francisco was the summer before my senior year in high school. That was 5 years ago. And Chinatown is still exactly how I remembered it. The same sights (BBQ ducks hanging in the window), the same smells (buns fresh out of the steamer), and the same sounds (not a word of English).
What fascinates me about cities is how ethnic enclaves are able to preserve the authenticity of its culture and environment, literally replicating the sights, smells, and sounds of the motherland. As I walked through Chinatown, I felt like I was on the other side of the world in Guangzhou and a foreigner again trying hard not to stand out with my large camera.
I think many Asian Americans (and other ethnic Americans) struggle with their identity. At least I know I do. There are still places in America where people do not identify me as “American” and when I visit China, I am clearly spotted as a foreigner. That’s why these cultural enclaves are so important to me. I can be in my home country and travel a few miles (or a few cities if I’m not in a metro area) to be completely immersed in the culture I grew up in, to be immersed in something familiar.
Being in Chinatown made me happy. I realized how blessed I am to be a citizen of a great country that allows me to embrace my background and my heritage. I’m glad these cultural pockets exist and thrive because they are a testament to our diverse nation… and they serve as reliable places for good dim sum.
Have you ever struggled with your identity? What do you do to find comfort or familiarity?
When Jonathan and I were in San Francisco, we stayed in the Mission District. I loved it. It felt just like home. The graffiti, the Spanish, and the small panaderias, it all reminded me of LA so much.
Growing up, my mom would treat me to pan dulce (Mexican sweet bread) in the supermarket if I behaved. It was Jonathan’s first pan dulce, and I was super excited to share a little bit of my childhood with him.
A helpful guide (and hint) for the friend who says “jai-ro”…
Nope, sorry, it’s not kwin-oh-a. Here are 22 food words you might not be pronouncing quite right.