Two apartments and eight years ago, we lived in a first-floor apartment on a university campus. The kitchen faced the street and was the length of our apartment. Long, skinny, and one wall full of windows. Since we were on the first floor, anyone passing by could see into our kitchen. Upon first moving in, we thought about putting curtains all the way across, but it just seemed wrong. Sometimes our foreignness on display was the gateway to deeper conversations. We would often get waves from random students. Other times, my husband’s students would point and giggle that they had found their teacher’s home.
We often had students over to hang out, bake cookies, or play with the kids. A few students thought they knew American culture and were bold in inviting themselves over, sometimes calling from the front door assuming we’d say yes and let them in.
On occasion, I would be in the kitchen and spot one of these EGR (extra grace required) girls and immediately duck below my counters. My phone soon rang. Sometimes I ignored the call. Sometimes I made up an excuse not to host that day.
In the culture we serve, it’s not uncommon for people to just show up at your door. They always come bearing gifts such as fruit, nuts, or something for the kids. They often stay for hours, only in the last few minutes revealing their reason for stopping by. I don’t know how many times I’ve been caught in my jammies and had to find a way to sneak off to my room to quickly change clothes! (Listen, those years with tiny humans were rough and left no time to get ready every day!)
Hospitality can be messy. It can be frustrating. It can be tiring. But I think that’s the point—it’s a sacrifice. Of time. Of resources. Of energy.
I can’t help but think of the numerous stories in the Bible of sacrificial hosting. The widow who fed Elijah. (1 Kings 17:7-16) The woman who poured oil on Jesus’ head. (Matthew 26:6-7) Zacchaeus hosting Jesus, who invited himself. (Luke 19:5-7)
Over the years of serving in this country, we have been humbled numerous times by the jaw-dropping hospitality local friends, and sometimes even strangers, show us. Most of the time, it’s not even laced with wanting to show off—they just want to make sure we’re comfortable and always, always have enough to eat.
But it’s not easy.
Their apartments are small, but there are always enough plastic stools for us to sit on. Their kitchens only have two burners, but they whip out dish after dish, often still cooking when we’re already full. Their dishes can be unique at times, but to them, busting out the special seafood or intestines represents delicacy.
As we’ve struggled to figure out what hosting looks like for us here, we’ve landed on a mash-up of our passport and host cultures. We have learned that instead of a good ol’ Midwestern casserole, a meal with multiple options is best for their Asian palettes. Their style is to serve multiple small dishes for everyone to taste, some homemade, some store-bought. When we finally realized store-bought food was acceptable, we found ways to include some pre-made dishes to diversify the spread and take a bit of pressure off of cooking so much. Although they tend to continue cooking while the guests eat, I challenge this by spending hours prepping and cooking before they arrive so I, too, can sit and enjoy the meal and conversation. While they rarely serve a dessert, I choose a less-sweet treat to let them try. They often ask for the recipe afterward because they secretly love sweet things. Pot lucks do not go well because they have no concept of them. Sometimes we host at a restaurant—a middle-ground they prefer—being clear we’ll pick up the tab to avoid the all-too-common “fight” over the bill.
There’s something special about gathering in a home and breaking bread together. We continue to flex with surprise guests, learn how to host in a culture so different from ours, and remember the sacrifices made to invite others in are often rewarded with deeper connections.
What does hospitality look like in your culture? Do you tend to have an “open door” or hesitate to invite others in? What benefits or struggles come with those choices?
*****
This recipe is easy, cheap, and always a crowd-pleaser. When having locals over, this tenderloin recipe is something they’re familiar with, but cooked in a different way. It’s tender, juicy, and only takes a few minutes to prep. It’s an easy main dish that I can then just add on some sides, or buy some sides to make it easier! Enjoy!
(Apologies for the lack of pictures. My phone was acting up, and I was distractedly cooking while chatting with our guests!)
Roasted Pork Tenderloin
Ready in: 40 minutes
Serves: 4
Slightly adapted from: Natasha’s Kitchen
- 1 tsp salt, or to taste
- 1 tsp Italian seasoning
- 1 tsp garlic powder
- 1 tsp ground coriander
- 2 Tbsp olive oil
- 1 1/2 lb pork tenderloin
- Preheat oven to 400°F (200°C) with the rack in the middle.
- Trim tenderloin of fat and any silver skin and pat dry with a paper towel. Pierce pork loin all over with a fork and rub with 1 Tbsp oil.
- Combine your seasonings and sprinkle onto the tenderloin then use your hands to rub the spices into the tenderloin until evenly coated.
- Heat 1 Tbsp oil over med-high heat in a large oven-safe pan; a cast iron pan or a Dutch oven will work. (If you don’t have an oven-safe pan, just plan to transfer the meat to a sheet pan once seared). Once oil is hot, add pork and brown on all sides (6-8 minutes total).
- Place in the oven and bake uncovered at 400˚F for 13-15 min, flipping the tenderloin over halfway through baking. Bake until center of pork registers at least 150˚F then transfer to a cutting board and let meat rest 5-10 min. Slice into rings and serve.
