A Cross-cultural Appetite
by Stacy (Taylor) Weber ’00
I am not yet fluent in theThai language,
so interactions with my Bangkok neighbors
often involve sharing food over the fence.
They give me fruit from their trees; I give
them homemade cookies.
When the Buddhist monks came to
dedicate one neighbor’s spirit house,
their spread included an array of fruit
and various animal parts. When the party
ended, they were gracious to share the
leftovers — a tray of pig intestines, hooves,
and bananas, which we accepted with a
smile. We sneaked the intestines out of
the house later that night, but we used the
bananas to make bread and took it to their
home along with their tray. When they
sent the tray back with Thai desserts, we
returned it with cookies and fruit. The tray
kept coming back with new and sometimes
unusual tastes to try.
I grew up in a small farming community
in Washington. We had one Americanized
Chinese restaurant in our meat-and-
potatoes town, and that was about the
extent of our food culture. We knew about
French toast and, of course, spaghetti, but
Indian food? Never.
So it was a complete shock to be in South
Africa in 1999, on my first MIS trip, eating
three meals a day of curry, spices, and naan
... with my hands. We arrived in Phoenix,
a large Indian community near Durban,
and I had determined before I left that I
would eat whatever was placed in front of
me. I loved curry from the start. I had never
tasted food with so many different flavors.
Even the fruit was interesting and new.
The women in Phoenix fascinated me.
They spent all day in their primitive kitchens
preparing the evening meal. I wondered
how, and why, they did it. I wanted to learn
how to prepare their foods so I could take
them back to my family. I thought I could
learn by helping, and that maybe I could
relieve some of their time in the kitchen.
“Oh, it’s easy,” they’d say. “A little of this,
a little of that ...” as they’d add ingredients
with their hands. But
how much
, I’d press,
needing an exact measurement. Looking
back, I don’t think they understood that
I knew nothing of what they grew up
knowing. The stories behind the food could
not be conveyed in cups and teaspoons.
After graduation, I worked at Cedarville
and enjoyed having friends tomy apartment
for biryani, a rice and curry dish I’d learned
to make when I returned to Durban as a
student teacher. My friend, Brian Burns ’95,
said, “I should call George to come over;
he loves Indian food.” George Weber ’97
was a missionary kid raised in Bangladesh.
We had spent time together with groups
of friends, and there had been some early
sparks, but I was nervous about him
coming over ...
he knew how this dish was
supposed to taste!
It must have turned out
OK, because we had our first official date
in April 2002 (my first time to try Thai
food), and we were married the following
June. In 2006, God brought us to Thailand
where George teaches and coaches soccer
at the International Community School of
Bangkok.
Around the major holidays, Christmas
and the April water festival, Songkran,
we exchange gifts with our backyard
neighbors. They brought us the most
amazing massaman curry, the best I’ve
ever tasted. I’d love to learn how to make
it. Our relationship is friendly, but not yet to
the point that it’s culturally comfortable to
have me in their home for a cooking lesson.
For now, we’ll continue exploring, tasting,
sharing, and passing foods to each other
across the gate.
Stacy (Taylor) Weber ’00
and her husband,
George ’97, live in Bangkok, Thailand, with
their children, Kylie, Layla, and Matthew.
You may contact her at
.
