I can’t eat spicy food; am I a failure???
This photo is from Dave Infante’s highly relatable article, “I hate Sriracha”. By photographer Andrew Zimmer.
When I was an English teacher in Korea, we made the kids brush their teeth after lunch for good hygiene and such. One day, as the afternoon bell rang to signal the end of lunch, my student Jaden and his perfectly round, jet black bowl-cut strolled into my classroom with his Pororo toothbrush set in hand. He shook his head and made that “ahhh” sound people in drink commercials make to let you know whatever they drank was delicious and that you should definitely buy it. Anyways, Jaden wasn’t trying to sell me anything as he let out his “ahhh” and turned to me and said, “So spicy!”
“Lunch?” I asked.
“No, toothpaste!” he said.
Two things clicked in my brain after this. I realized first that he definitely meant minty but probably didn’t know the word for that given he was an actual baby in kindergarten trying to speak a different language. Then, I realized that Jaden is maybe a genius because he used the first word he could think of that he associates with mouth pain and beat the rest of the world to the whole ‘minty is just cold spicy’ thing.
When the rest of the kids got back to the classroom, I decided that it would be the perfect time to teach them all the word ‘minty’ so they would stop going around yelling “SPICY!” after brushing their teeth, which obviously launched into a rousing game of “Raise your hand if you like spicy food!”. Ten out of twelve of my students raised their hands (including Jaden), and to the other two I said, “Don’t worry. Ms. Alexa doesn’t like spicy food either.” I thought that would be the end of it.
However, I guess all my kids were maybe geniuses because they NEVER forgot this fact. From then on, every time I decided to grace them with my presence during lunch time, they would look at my kimchi-less lunch tray and all giggle, “Ms. Alexa, no spicy!!!” taunting me like the small demons they were. My one true weakness was exposed to a bunch of toothpaste-eating 5-year-olds.
Honestly, I thought all children under the age of 6 disliked spicy food. The first food I remember being displeased about due to the burn in my mouth was a pepperoni. When we would order pizza for our class parties, I would casually stay away from the red-dotted slices, opting for plain cheese. I guess my parents took note that I was an absolute mouth wimp because growing up, they never fed me spicy food or forced me to eat anything that would potentially bring fire to my tongue. They even put ice cubes in my congee, and that wasn’t even spicy, just hot.
It’s important to mention that both my parents are Vietnamese and very much so enjoy Vietnamese food. And, something I learned questionably late in life is that a lot (and I mean a lot) of Vietnamese food is spicy. Who knew???
My parents shielded me from the red broth of bun bo hues, didn’t make me dip spring rolls in nuoc mam, and let me get away with only putting hoisin sauce in my pho. If you think this is a sad list of spicy Vietnamese food examples, you’re right. I can’t even name more spicy dishes because I’ve never eaten them. I lived my life through high school being perfectly fine with this. I knew I didn’t like spicy food, and it wasn’t totally lame because at my 95% white high school in Missouri, pretty much no one liked spicy food.
But, then I got to college. I met so many Vietnamese people, and it was so exciting and #bonding and cultural connection, all great!!! Until the first time I declined the bottle of Sriracha at dinner. Then the taunts started.
“You don’t like Sriracha??? Aren’t you Viet?” (Side note: what even the fuck is Sriracha, it’s not even Vietnamese, why do people say this???)
“Let’s get the yangnyum chicken. Oh, and one small order of the plain for the weakling.”
“It’s not even that spicy, Alexa. Why are you crying?”
The shame of eating out was too much. I couldn’t eat the food of my people and found out very soon after that I could also not drink the drink of my people, our beloved Hennessy. Upon one sip, I turn a ghastly shade of purple, the most severe case of Asian glow I’ve ever seen. Honestly, it isn’t even just Hennessy. All alcohol causes me to light up like a Christmas tree. So in other words, I discovered I am a failure of a Vietnamese person, all via the dinner table.
Freshman Alexa discovers that she is indeed very allergic to alcohol.
I thought all hope was lost. Would my Vietnamese friends ever invite me to hang out again? Did they think I was a total loser wimp crybaby? I had to make a plan to make sure I still looked cool and could attend group dinners. After many years of trial and error, I’ve come up with this foolproof list of ways to adapt to being a failure of a Vietnamese person that maybe you can use, too.
1. Call yourself out BEFORE you order food
Whenever I go out to eat with friends now, I make sure to announce at least 3 hours in advance that I, Alexa Nguyen, cannot and WILL NOT eat anything spicy because I am indeed a giant weenie and my mouth is weak. This is a tactic called masking your shortcomings with humor, and it works 100% of the time.
2. Let Asian glow work in your advantage
I didn’t mention this before because I didn’t want to reveal all of my weaknesses too fast, but Asian glow is not my only adverse reaction to alcohol. In fact, all of my reactions to alcohol are adverse. I am The One Shot-iest of One Shot Wonders, but is anybody surprised? Anyways, some people like to play off Asian glow like, “Oh, I’m fine just the glow. I’m not drunk!” And it’s probably true! But, me? I like to do the opposite. “See how red I am????? I CAN’T DRINK ANYMORE.” This works maybe 50% of the time, but that’s better than nothing.
3. Accept yourself for who you are
Honestly, I’ve come to realize that restaurants (including Vietnamese ones) have plenty of options on the menu and that plenty of people turn a little red when they drink. And, while my friends do still poke fun at me when I accidentally eat a chili flake and start panting, they don’t think that I’m a total loser wimp crybaby for not being able to eat spicy things or drink the Henny but in fact for a plethora of other reasons.
And, surprise. My family also does not think of me as a Vietnamese failure. In a moment of stress, I even asked my mom if she thought it was embarrassing that I can’t eat the food the rest of our family eats. She was very confused and said something to the tune of “No? I also do not like spicy food very much.”
Turns out that being Vietnamese has a lot more to do with who your family and friends are and the culture you all share. Maybe “drinking Henny” is more just the vibe of singing karaoke while under a canopy with those individual gas stoves on each folding table behind you and NOT literally pouring Hennessy down your throat (though a lot of my friends and family do that part, too). I know food (and drink) can be a huge part of a lot of people’s cultures and what it means to be Asian, but it isn’t the only part. So to all my fellow mouth wimps, keep eating what makes you happy.
4. Avoid red foods.
Red things are usually spicy.