Lipstick Jihad

I'm reading an interesting memoir of an Iranian who grew up in America and moved back to Iran as a young woman to make sense of her 3rd culture. She hasn't yet identified it as such, but I've done that for her. Because that's what she is experiencing. The hard reality of not being fully American nor fully Iranian, not completely at home in either country. We, too, are now of a 3rd culture.

She talks about the "often awkward fusion of East and West in our American lives didn't necessarily point to our failure, but the inherent tension of the attempt." I lived with inherent tension for years, but sadly often felt that it was failure on my part.

It's funny how you evaluate life and put aspects of yourself into context only when you've entered into the other world and can notice the differences, what's lacking. For instance, I've been collecting recipes for years. Every time someone came to Turkey they brought with them the latest magazine and I went to work drooling over the recipes and then brainstorming ways to create something similar with available ingredients. It was this challenge to come as close as possible and recreate home. It was like the author's Grandmother, who found herself outside of Iran needing to exert "some control over her transplanted life through purity of palette."

I imagined that as soon as we moved back to the States (and I reacquired my kitchen utensils) I would go crazy cooking. Finally all the ingredients easily at hand, I could at long last make all those weird creations that our other transplanted friends would have appreciated. But I didn't, haven't. In fact, I've been uninspired, lacking all creativity with food.

What's lacking?

My need for control of my environment AND guests for whom food was my ministry. I realize in the absence of entertaining the likes of what we did in Istanbul, that hospitality really was the gift I offered others. To have a group over, tired of eating lamb, weary of smoke-filled restaurants, and needing a brief sanctuary was a blessing and an exciting challenge.

With autumn here I was overjoyed to find acorn squash, something we hadn't had in 7 years. I remembered a recipe, even the type of paper it was written on, that I had made 8 or 9 years ago. Last night for dinner I served my family wild rice stuffed squash and the results just were not positive. And I've wondered why I'm not inspired to more? Sophie literally spit out and gagged on the small piece of squash I offered her!

The stack of 16 dinner plates, washed once or twice weekly in Turkey, hasn't been touched. I am amazed at how much silverware and glassware I have. Remnants of the numbers that used to cycle through our home. And now, glad for a reprieve and easy nights of 5 dishes, I'm again adjusting to life in another world.