Immigrant food

giuliakollmann

by giuliakollmann

Story

One of my immigrant and foodie joys is living very close by the Dong Xuan Center, the largest Asian market in Germany, a gem where anything from trinkets to ingredients from all corners of the entire continent are to be found. It was founded and is still run by the Vietnamese community that settled in the area during the Soviet days, coming as contract workers of the GDR.

Countries with a high influx of immigrants divide their shops into “normal” and “immigrant food shops” where “exotic” ingredients are to be found, grouped by entire continents. The food of others, the colonized, the people of color and the descendants of the rich whites that conquered or the poor whites that ran away, stands together regardless of abysmal geographic distances.

Me and the Vietnamese and other South Americans, some Africans, and Asians from all corners gather in the Dong Xuan Center to find the comfort of our homes, even if they are oceans apart. Through food, we recognize our similarities and our inherent sadness, our longing, our incurable homesickness despite the best of integrations.

The Dong Xuan Center, in its abundance of offerings and reliability, reminds me of an area of my hometown Rio de Janeiro called the SAARA, which is how the Sahara Desert is spelled in Portuguese. It is an abbreviation for Sociedade dos Amigos das AdjacĂŞncias da Rua da Alfândega—Society of Friends of Alfandega Street Adjacencies, even though it sounds like a made-up-after-the-fact acronym such as SPECTRE or SHIELD. It was founded by Syrian and Lebanese immigrants in the early 1900’s and was later gladly reinforced by everyone else. It is as hot and dusty as hell itself in summer and is a magical place for kibbeh and sfiha. However, it is not as internationally minded as one would hope it could be, with a sharper focus on spices and middle eastern ingredients and a glaring lack of many Asian or even South American culinary staples.

From this perspective, few experiences are as connecting as being a foodie immigrant in a city like Berlin. Through our quests in specialty food shops, we find answers to cravings we would not have been able to imagine in tastes we met through the improbable gathering of our cultures by our German hosts. Via tips from shop owners and our own curiosities, we add tinga de pollo or filipino chicken adobo as equally present parts of our culinary repertoire, on par with Brazilian staples like feijoada or pĂŁo de queijo.

Immigrants in Europe who identify as persons of color may have very different power dynamics regarding how some ethnicities are perceived in their homelands. Still, the culinary longing for our first homes unites the foreigners and takes us into a journey of curiosity towards one another. Food turns origins into starting points, not narratives of confinement, into stories of cultural connection and sheer delight. If it is good, it travels with impunity through the oldest traditions and the most audacious novelties and combinations.

© giuliakollmann 2023-01-05

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