Enjoy Your Chow

“As-salamu alaykum!”, a familiar greeting in the Middle East meaning “peace be upon you.” I gave and received this greeting a thousand times while I was overseas with the Marine Corps in 2008. It was just about the only thing I knew how to say. Everything else was a low form of sign language that often made me look like an uneducated ape. Regardless of the language barrier I managed to explore some markets from time to time and came across some interesting foods.

I enjoyed their barbequed meats the most. How American of me, right? But this isn’t your dad’s burger and hotdog barbeque. May I introduce to you, the Kebab. Ok, so it’s meat on a stick which you have probably had at some point in your life. The difference here is the foreign flavors on your palate. Don’t ask me what they are seasoned or marinaded with because I couldn’t tell you. The crazy thing about spices and meats is they taste different in other parts of the world. It is as if you go to a different planet where the plants just grow differently, so the thyme you grow in your backyard tastes completely different than the thyme grown out there. The meats taste a bit gamey out there, but it all comes together and just works well. The surprise of the taste being so new to me made it just that much more enjoyable.

One experience I had really highlighted the poverty that some areas of the Middle East are in. I bartered for a loaf of some bread because I needed something to just hold me over until dinner. If you noticed I did not say ‘bought’ but rather I ‘bartered.’ It is unacceptable and almost an insult to pay full price. If you pay full price, it is like saying, “You don’t know the value of your own wears, and I am getting this item at a bargain from you!” When someone tells you $2.00 for bread you offer $1.00 out of respect. This was true where I was, so if you travel to the Middle East fact check that for your region before trying it, I am not a cultural expert.

Back to the loaf of bread. I noticed after I bought it, the bathroom was right next to the kitchen. As in they were all the same room, and they were the same room as the little “shop” too. Really strange and gross, I thought, but it got worse. One of the people there started dumping flour into the bowl and stirring. That’s right ladies and gentlemen, the toilet was the mixing bowl for the bread. What ingenious design, a bowl that cleans itself with a press of a handle. I did not stick around to ask questions… maybe it was never used for actual toilet reasons and they only use it because it’s a good size mixing bowl, but I wasn’t going to risk it, so I tossed the loaf to some stray dogs.

After I had that experience, I stuck to military issued food for a while. We call it the “Chow Hall”. There are some staples there that are unique to the Chow Hall. Not because the dish is unique, but somehow, if I list off these foods, every Marine that ate at the Chow Hall would be able to taste it in their memories.

The famous chili mac, was the number one go-to Chow Hall meal. Everything you need right there in one sloppy scoop. Take that with a side of steamed peas and you have all your food groups, so long as you count the diced tomatoes as a fruit.

Lasagna day was one of great excitement. One huge square of cheesy goodness. The cooks knew how to please a bunch of red-blooded Marines. Put mass amounts of meat and cheese between some pasta and we will worship the ground you walk on.

The Chicken Cordon Bleu was on the menu again, sadly. Not because I don’t like the dish, but sadly because it was really sad. This culinary masterpiece dish that sounds like it was made in the South of France by Jean Claude de Chef was little more than a giant chicken nugget. But how do you keep Marines happy? That’s right, mass amounts of cheese. This little chunk of breaded chicken was stuffed with gooey cheese, so each bite was happiness.

I wish that I had a more culturally woke story to tell you about the time I back packed through Europe and tried every fancy crumpet I could find. Unfortunately, after high school I didn’t have opportunities for self-growth. I had orders and an M-16. As did all my Marines next to me throughout my enlistment, but we made the best of it. We didn’t have much, but we celebrated what we had. I am forever grateful for the memories we all shared and the comradery we found sitting around a table at the end of the day in our little tent we called Chow Hall.