Try your mouth at soup

*slurp*

Ah...

*slurp*

Ah... Mm-hmm!

*slurp*

Ah... This soup is so good, so warm...

I look up in the deserted room. No wait, it's not deserted, I recall, after seeing that the tables around me are filled with my fellow employees on their lunch break. It's amazing how quiet people can eat. As I look down to savor another delightful spoonful of Au Bon Pain chicken soup:

*slurp*

I look up again, just quickly enough to catch a number of pairs of eyes dart back to their own meals. They were looking at me because... huh? I scan my memory of how I dressed this morning, of how I was seated at the table. I happen to glance at my soup on my way down.

Ohhhh... oops.

The culture conundrum strikes again!

After learning how to fully savor the flavor of hot soup, while cooling it off by vacuuming it full speed into my mouth, thanks to Japanese tradition, I have remained faithful to that technique -- and it has served me well while eating hot ramen noodles, steaming nabeyaki udon, and yes, the occasional store-made reheated chicken soup. While previously unconscious of using this delectable skill, having only used it in Asian restaurants or at home with my culturally-educated ("imposed" may be a closer word) significant other, I had a sudden reverse culture shock after now almost three years back in the States. We don't slurp hot liquids in America. Duh. That goes for hot coffee and green tea as well, I remind myself now. Such a sad, sad thing. Americans are missing out on the fun, I must say.

Not only do you risk burning your tongue by directly pouring fundamentally undisturbed hot substances into your mouth, all the flavor is left undisturbed, still nestled within the liquid itself. Plus all the trouble of trying not to make any sounds -- that's a toughie. So how do you get to savor the aroma of the food?

OK, take wine tasting. Hear the sounds that experts and the gargles that amateurs make? Each one of those sounds has a purpose, which is to direct the scent molecules -- the essence of the food -- into the nasal cavity to make it a fuller, more enriching and distinguishing experience. That's the purpose, and it's not strange in that situation. In fact, it's weird if you don't make the slurping noises. (As chewing is a parallel for solid food.)

With practice, hot liquids also become aerated enough during the process to drop in temperature, adding another layer of satisfaction -- one of not having your tongue turned into rubber the next day.

A challenge: I recommend that this week, you try a bit of soup or tea "the Asian way" and see what you think. I've had the occasional splash-in-the-eye from a delinquent noodle, yes, but those of you who persevere will be richly rewarded. I was a doubter too, but here I am!