Of the two novels, I found The Namesake to be the most relatable; in fact, it was almost instantly after I finished the novel that I encountered a moment when I felt connected to the book. I walked into the kitchen to see my mom and dad eating fish and bean sprouts wrapped in rice paper, dipped in fish sauce.  She told me, “This is what I ate when I was little. It reminds me of home.”

At that moment I saw similarities between my mother rice wraps and Ashima’s rice crispies concoction.  But this sparked the question in my head – what food would remind me of home?

I remember … pizza, hot dogs, chinese food, pho, barbeques, salmon and all different kinds of food. Living in NYC, it is hard to pinpoint what food would spark the memories of home.  American and Vietnamese food were the only things I knew, which is why if I wanted to be reminded of home, I would be eating one of the strange dishes of east and west that my dad made. I remember sitting in the kitchen, whining about eating something different. I saw him start frying noodles with different sauces, Italian sausages and a few Asian herbs. What came next blew my mind – it tasted awfully funky and weird but I couldn’t help but appreciate the effort. The taste, although weird, was strangely homely. Eventually he kept making the noodles and I kept eating the noodles. It’s something special to me and this family alone, which makes it such a great memory.