337. Where’s the rice?

Growing up in the UK I had a pretty Western upbringing. We only spoke English, watched British television, and grew up in an almost exclusively white village.

But sometimes that hint of Asian would surface.

In primary school, if you were friends with somebody you had to invite them over to your house for dinner. That’s how you knew you were friends.

I recall going to a friend’s house for one of these dinners and being served a lovely pork chop with vegetables (my pre-vegetarian days). It really was very nice, but, and it’s a big but, it was missing one crucial element.

“Where’s the rice?”

I asked in that innocent way that only children can.

My hosts gave me a quizzical look. I returned it.

You see, even though we had a largely Western upbringing, at home we would eat pretty much every meal with rice. Something that I only later learnt is a very Asian thing to do.

It’s a moment in my life that has stuck clearly in my mind. Up until that point I don’t think I had really realised that our family was a bit different to the others. Sure my dad looked completely different to everybody else, but to me he looked “normal” so I didn’t even register that he stood out in our village.

Anyway I soon learnt that British meals consist of meat and veg but no rice (though sometimes chips) and I didn’t make the same mistake of asking for rice again, even if I did think it was weird.