Closing, Not Fusing, The Gap

I found the Vietnamese in America both intimate and alien, but Vietnam itself was simply alien.

am Indian in body, tongue, to anyone I meet in the streets, and increasingly even in my spiritual inclinations. My parents are American in their politics, their optimism, their belief in the dream—for they came to this country at a time more open and hopeful than any I have known. We could also list the ways in which I could be called un-American a

I now realize that strong opinions about ragù, or any dish for that matter, are expressions of nostalgia. That repeating them is almost as comforting as eating the dish because it’s another way of saying this is the way I know this is and how I hope it will stay.