Fish Sauce


Fish Sauce and I found love in the aisle of a just-barely-adequate Dominicks in a well to do part of Chicago. Our matchmaker, The College Student's Vegetarian Cookbook, had shown me tales of what could be if I just made my own pad thai. That combined with a recent intolerance to gluten made fish sauce and I a great couple. I found him, sitting alone, surrounded by taller, leaner and better smelling Rice Vinegar on the shelf. I reached my hand to grab him from the dark part of the shelf and placed him tenderly in the child's seat of the cart. I smiled at him, but pretended like the rice noodles were more important for the rest of our trip through the store. Playing hard to get didn't work. Fish Sauce always knew what was up. We rendez-vous'ed with the peanuts, rice vinegar, soy sauce and bean sprouts in an orgy of flavor. He gave so much to the dish, but in the end, I just couldn't take his stank. So he got placed in the fridge, and slowly watched my preference for all other condiments besides him as he got pushed to the back with each condiment that got returned to the fridge.