POM

It has been a while since my last post.  In fact, since before I started up teaching my spring semester.   For some reason this semester seems just a little bit harder, my students just a little more dispondent, the days just a little bleaker.  In the depth of winter I try to stay busy and cook new things and explore.  My husband and I recently were turned on to a new market of sorts.  It's called POM, aka Pacific Ocean Market.  Ironic since we are no where near the Pacific Ocean, but, it would seem to be more of an homage to the great bounty most Asian countries are located near.

From the moment we stepped into the grocery store and were greeted by an enourmous Christmas tree located in the frozen foods section, I was in love.  My jaw dropped.  It was as if snippits of Asia had been crammed into one grocery store and it was bursting.  Gone were any trappings of the typical American grocery store.  The displays had a chaotic order and I had no idea what half of it was.  Nothing was displayed to be attractive or pretty.  The produce section was a mish mash with no clearly defined fruit, vegetable or herb sections.  In one corner of the store are whole crispy ducks hanging, head on with a pole jammed through their bills.  Whole roast pigs are advertized for 69 dollars.  Bags of peeled garlic, fermented bean curd and parts of animals Americans won't go near are in another corner.  And the slightly off putting smell coming from behind the meat counter would be cause for complaint in any other grocery.  No lovely steaks or neat orange crab legs are for sale here.  You're more likely to see cloudy white plastic bins with pig uterus, chicken feet and pork belly.  The fish behind the counter are whole, unless you just need the heads, of which they have a significant pile.  In the frozen section is every kind of fish, prepared every kind of way.  And unless you consider durian a heat up dinner, it appears that the microwave doesn't play a huge role in food preparation for the people who shop there.

I noticed we were in the minority.  And although there were many people of asian descent, there were also people in there speaking spanish and some eastern european language I couldn't recognize.  Despite the aisle upon aisle of gummys to teas to hot sauces to pickled bamboo, I couldn't help but notice the rather angry asian man and, who I can only guess is, his wife sporting a sizable black eye.  She looked so beaten down.  She must have to have been to not even try to hide her face.  She looked like she was past shame or embarrasment.  Quietly following her loud husband up and down the aisles, doing her grocery shopping, she seemed hopeless.  I can't imagine what it must be like to live in a foreign country with an abusive spouse.  Although, I suppose there's probably no Safeway in China for homesick American's to go shopping at to get their Spagetti-Os or Kraft Mac and Cheese.  I hope she finds some comfort in the pieces of home crowding that little market in Colorado.