A Passion for Fusilli

One of our housemates, Xiao Peng, from China, loves to eat pasta. On the first day of class, which began at 2 pm instead of the usual 9 am, a group of us went to a nearby eatery for a quick lunch, after we got our paper work done early in the morning.

Most of us ordered either a slice of pizza or a sandwich. He chose some fusilli. While eating, he asked us, ‘’is this easy to cook?’’

One evening, as I polished off my plate of fruits for dinner, he came to the dining area holding a bag of fusilli, and asked me in Mandarin, ‘’do you know how to cook this?’’

Oh yes, I replied, and proceeded to explain. Somehow I was stumped for so many Mandarin words. Like ‘’boil’’. Another Chinese girl had to contribute the word, as I substituted it with Italian. Then I tried to explain draining – this time even the Italian word escaped me.

Long story short, I managed to explain the boiling, draining and the heating up of the ready made Barilla sauce with a lot of hand gestures, while he nodded his understanding and confirmed it with Chinese phrases. I even helped him get the water boiled and gauge the amount of fusilli he needed.

When I returned to the kitchen much later, I saw him busy stirring the pasta in the frying pan with the sauce. ‘’How come you are still cooking?’’ I asked. It turned out that it was his second batch – he must have enjoyed cooking and eating it so much that he decided to make more for our two other housemates.

‘’Please eat some with us, c’,mon, join us, ‘’ he urged. Though I have already eaten, I decided to try some. ‘’Not bad, considering it’s your first attempt!’’ I told him. He smiled and said, ‘’I wish I had my camera with me, I want to post a photo of me cooking on Facebook!’’

I guess the Chinese love to share food. Just look at the way they usually eat – from a common plate or bowl, and at a round table. It is a simple but strong form of camaraderie. My non Chinese housemates have offered me a piece of whatever they are eating, but never asked me to join them or share their dishes.

But Xiao Peng made me feel very at home, urging so many times, ‘’c’mon, eat some more, eat some more!’’ and even went off to pour me a drink to go with the pasta.

The Chinese girl did the same, urging the Korean guy who joined us at the table to share the extra amount of pasta. Very soon they all started helping themselves to each other’s food. The Korean had made some salad, and fried an immense amount of fat pork to go with it. I gamely tried his salad, and the coleslaw that the Chinese girl brought, but balked at the white greasy layers of blubber which they all seem to relish.

Since then, Xiao Peng has been making fusilli daily for both lunch and dinner. Our exchanges usually go like this, with him beginning, ‘’you’ve had dinner? Bread again?’’ And my reply would be, ‘’Yes, sandwich again. You? Pasta again?’’

I told him, you can buy other types of pasta too, those with other shapes, for variety. ‘’But I somehow prefer fusilli, ‘’ he said.

Today, he saw me at dinner. Have you eaten, he began our ritual. Yes, and you? I continued the ritual. Yes, noodle (ie, pasta) again, he smiled. But I spied some penne the other day, and am glad he has added some variety to his pasta repertoire!