Spicy

My daughter has never been able to eat spicy food. A couple dashes of black pepper used to send her running for water. Even after her cleft palate was repaired, closing the direct line between her mouth and sinuses, spicy food was totally taboo. But one day when we were in China, we walked into a little fast food place with a cow on the otherwise unreadable sign. This was a special treat for her, because she loves meat and I’m vegetarian. Assuring her that I would be fine with a bun from a nearby bakery, she ordered a bowl of beef soup from the photo menu.

When her order came, it was so laden with chili that I could smell it across the table. A layer of chili flake floater on the surface. It was genuinely spicy.

She couldn’t trade food with me, because I don’t eat beef and I hadn’t ordered anything to trade. But she was appalled at the thought of wasting money and food. (I don’t remember if I told her that her soup cost $6 – at that age she might have thought $6 was expensive.)

In the end, she made a full meal of it. It took an entire bottle of water and many tissues for her streaming sinuses, and she still couldn’t finish it. But she was as proud of the soup she did eat as if she had cooked it herself. And to this day, when she complains about food being too spicy, I remind her, “You ate the soup in Qingdao and even liked it.” She still avoids spicy food, but what counts as spicy now is so much hotter than a dash of black pepper.

Proof that travel expands all your horizons.