AN ANTIQUE MINDED MAN

It is with sadness that I constate that many of my ancestors and related kin never knew the joy of noodles. Because their city, New Amsterdam, was traded to the English for thirty pieces of silver, along with them, before noodles had become Dutch food. That would not happen until the Hokkien Chinese had been long settled in Batavia, and the Malays, Javans, and Orang Belanda eventually got used to good cooking.

Noodles, in their Asian variations, have been Dutch food for over a century, but only really took off about seventy years ago.


In that same period that the West Indies Company gave up New Amsterdam, the Trịnh Lords won their long fight against the Nguyễn, and trade with the VOC withered. Had the Dutch at that time had foresight, we'd now be up to our necks in eagle-wood incense, fine cinnamon, and rice stick noodles.

My apartment mate on Monday brought home some chao mien. I feasted on some of it Tuesday for lunch. Tuesday evening she brought home Thai noodles in satay sauce.


毒寮

The Dutch should have thought to introduce the Vietnamese to Persian opium and decent tobacco. Then they would have gladly stayed within the VOC mercantile orbit, and ended up smoking good stuff instead of "poison from Laos" (thuốc lào; 'duk liu'). Nicotiana rustica, which makes you lightheaded while it rips your lungs out. Sadly very traditional. Opium, of course, has been widely outlawed almost everywhere for nearly a hundred years.

Apparently taking a hit of rusticana is marvelous for the digestion. A generation ago, many Vietnamese Americans, being mostly urbanites in touch with the modern world, customarily smoked State Express 555 instead, because both the pipe and the tobacco variety were unavailable in America, and huffing a bong was, generally speaking, frowned upon.

That was something I did not know at the time. But I happily bought the cigarettes, which were available at every noodle soup place, and smoked one or two as I lazily finished my glass of iced Viet coffee after lunch. And maybe had a second one.

You can't do that anymore. They've en masse switched to Marlboro Lights. Which are trash, but cheap, and they don't need to be smuggled in from Hong Kong or Vancouver. And you can not puff away indoors anyway, because Anglos have gone on a massive anti-smoking kick which infects nearly everyone who comes in contact with them.



After a meal, I find that it is enjoyable to have some tobacco.

Years ago it would have been a good medium Latakia blend, these days it's more likely a solid flake, or an aged Virginia and Perique compound. Last night during the rain I enjoyed a bowlful of Samuel Gawith's Full Virginia Flake. While getting wet. With an umbrella. Because even though she's of Chinese ancestry, my apartment mate has some very Anglo tendencies.
Like repudiating tobacco usage in all its forms.

She's never seen one of these things, which are not entirely uncommon in Chinatown where she grew up. But they're relics, in a way. Elderly immigrants recalling home by their use.

I do not know what the uncles smoke in them there. It's probably crumbled up Marlboros or Prince Albert. Nicotiana rustica is neither grown in California nor easily available.

Sam Gawith is not for sale in Chinatown.
Rather a pity, that.

TOBACCO INDEX


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