I promised myself that I wanted to write down every memory I had with you. I haven’t done a great job of it and admittedly, it’s bizarre how the mind and heart intertwine with the emotions at different times. Most of our memories are on random slips of paper at my desk or on the back of notebooks; basically, kept on whatever material I had available at the time, racing to capture them before the details once again get lost in the memory files.
This one is entirely random, mostly mundane, and I even partially question whether I imagined it. Especially because you aren’t here to validate it for me.
I was working on my laptop when my dad called up the stairs and asked what I wanted for dinner. He said he was going to make pork chops — so did I want HK style tomato baked or Japanese fried tonkatsu?
Suddenly, I was in a small, hole-in-the-wall Japanese restaurant, sitting on a counter-top stool facing out the storefront. You were on my right, and we both had purses/bags hooked over our knees because there was no where else to put our things. The waiter was setting down for you a skillet of fried tonkatsu with dark brown curry gravy sauce and a side of white rice. Somehow, I just saw your face make a slight grimace, which makes me chuckle internally.
Rewind an hour. It was another day in New York; one of your weekend visits. I have no other context or real timeframe for when this memory occurred. We were tired though, so it must have been a full day of exploring. It was approaching evening, so time for dinner and then to head back. I vaguely associate us with being in the St. Marks’ area, somewhere around there, where it felt a bit sketchy and also not super familiar like I would be with say West Village. It was decided that we should try Japanese curry because you’ve never had it before. This is likely an instance of 1) I wanted you to try a new cuisine/food or 2) You were willing to try a new cuisine/food or 3) You were food indifferent and I got into my head Japanese curry it should be.
However it was, we were walking through a few different small streets and alleys, where google maps indicated there should be Japanese curry restaurants. Needless to say, we had wandered a relative while without finding a place that looked decent or was open. Also being unfamiliar with the area, I felt determined that we should sooner rather than later find a place to eat and then leave. It was fast getting dark and I didn’t want us to be in this area. I recall a little bit of frustration because you were typically un-opinionated when it came to food, and also not directionally helpful either (ergo, I felt solely responsible for making us walk around confusedly as we got increasingly more tired).
Eventually, we did find a small restaurant. The menu only featured a few options of curry, and ultimately, I think the entire ordeal was less than exciting. Being tired and hungry, we both ate quickly and then left. What happened later that evening as well as anything we did during the day escapes my memory (where we went, how long you stayed in NYC, etc). Yet, I can clearly remember the expression of your face, the slight cringe at Japanese curry, the indifference to the meal, mixed with a tiredness from a daylong outing. Not once did you complain though at my indecisiveness or inability in picking a restaurant. You most probably disliked Japanese curry and wouldn’t have it again. I wish I could ask you if you remember this and whether you actually liked it or not.
Not everything we did together was exciting; many were perfectly uneventful interactions. With a faint smile, I’m glad to have this memory.
“Japanese fried tonkatsu,” I replied to my dad.
*After additional research to revive this memory, I think it was most likely Curry-ya on 9th St.
