The Dive Evangelist

I pride myself in a fairly far-reaching exposure to various and exotic dishes. My parents never heeded, "I don't think I’ll like it," when I was a kid. If we were having Sri Lankan food, we were having Sri Lankan food and my choices were eat it, or skip dinner.

The good things about such early introductions are that I grew to appreciate the sometimes subtle and sometimes drastic differences in cuisines and I feel that by having such experience it makes my life that much richer. The bad thing is that, occasionally, I get the taste for something off-the-wall and that one dish is the only thing that will sate my hunger. Even in Manhattan that can often be a chore. For example, tell me where the closest Albanian restaurant is to you right now.

This afternoon I was in the mood for Vietnamese noodle soup. Pho. Fairly easy in a city, but I’m in the burbs. So I Google-Earthed Vietnamese food and found a place not too far from my office.

I ordered without even looking at the menu. The soup was delicious and it hit the spot as only it could’ve hit the spot. The fresh flavors of lime, basil, and chiles... just wonderful.

Until a young couple sat at a table just behind me and perused the menu only cursorily before ordering themselves.

“Two sharkfin and crabmeat soup.”

“Well, crap,” I thought as I put down my chopsticks.

“May I have the check please?”

“Something wrong with the soup sir?”

“No. This soup is delicious, but I’ll be leaving and I won’t be coming back as you carry sharkfin on your menu. I’m sorry.”

I felt like a jerk to say it, but what point is a protest without anyone knowing what or even that you are protesting? I wasn’t about to wait for the couples’ meals to come out and then kick the hot soup into their lap, jump onto that table, and shout slogans. Not my style. Just a couple of words to get everyone thinking, then get out of there without causing a scene.

With any luck at all, at least one of the three people within earshot were so curious about what I’d said that they’ll read up about it. With a little more luck, they’ll change. With all the blessings of the universe at our back, they’ll tell someone else about it.

But for right now I am still hungry and the only other Vietnamese place nearby is closed today.

If you have no idea what I’m talking about or why I would deny myself mouth-watering noodle soup, you need to watch the movie Sharkwater.