As a Korean-American foodie who resides in West Oakland, I’m lucky that there’s a slew of fine eateries not too far from our home all along Telegraph Avenue in Temescal.
He sat next to her on a long bench. He complimented her outfit, saying something to the tune of “I really like your skirt. It’s so… Third World.” When this failed to win her over, he stepped things up by making a comment about the food on her plate:
“Ahhh, keen-waaaah,” he said with deliberate flair. “That’s an ancient grain, you know.”
Frankly, if any man said this to me, I would have been automatically intrigued. Was he kidding? Was his field of study ancient grains? Was he really that interested in my diet?