If you know anything about Thailand, you know that most Thai food is spicy. Some Thai restaurants in the U.S. even label their hottest level of spice “Thai Spice” or “Thai Level.” It’s a part of almost every dish and, in turn, very much a part of the culture. 

The culture in Michigan was almost the complete opposite. 

I remember debating with some friends at Calvin over whether or not spice was a necessary part of the culinary world. Even if I felt a little offended during this conversation, I also understood where they were coming from. 

Spicy food is quite hard to eat. The sensation capsaicin gives you literally makes your brain believe you are on fire. The natural response to fire is panic. Your heart rate goes up. You sweat profusely. You reach for any source of relief. Even your bowels seem to be adversely affected by spice. It is definitely not a peaceful experience. 

For a while, I refused to tolerate spicy foods, which is funny considering my Sichuan-Chinese descent and my time spent in Thailand. Growing up, my grandmother made this spicy stir-fried shrimp that I loved. But it was a spicy dish. So, to get around it, I would fill up a bowl with drinking water and dip each piece of shrimp into the water to take the spice off. My grandmother thought it was adorable, but always made comments about how I was losing out on all of the flavor. I just didn’t want to feel like my mouth was dying.

After moving to Thailand, I realized that my spice tolerance was going to be challenged. Every restaurant served spicy food, and I quickly realized that my definition and their definition of “less spicy” were very different. Even the Thai food served at school was a little above my level of comfortable spice. But I had to adapt, and soon I discovered that my grandmother was right.

Spice doesn’t just mean the fiery sensation that makes you reach for the nearest waterbottle. Spice means flavor. It means sensation. It means reaction. It’s a part of culture. People refuse to give up on it because they truly believe spice adds something essential to a dish. Even if I kept rinsing my shrimp, my grandmother still found it necessary to make them spicy in the first place. 

My spice tolerance still doesn’t hold up to Thai standards, but my limits have definitely been stretched. Now, spicy food excites me. The panic I once felt has turned into exhilaration, excitement, and even anticipation. 

I think the part of me that was offended when debating my friends at Calvin was the part of me that missed home. Spicy food had become the piece of home that I could access while overseas. Cracking open the bright red packaging of Shin Ramen on the weekends was often the one thing that kept me from feeling homesick. A hint of white pepper and a bit of hot sauce took my crappy college cooking to a place where both my stomach and my soul felt fed. 

Spicy food may not be for everyone, but I hope everyone gives it a real good chance before they write it off of their diet forever. 

Photo by Flickr user Adam Baker (CC BY 2.0)

Priscilla Chang

Priscilla Chang (’25) majored in English literature and minored in linguistics at Calvin. She now works as a missionary teacher in Thailand, teaching language arts at Chiang Rai International Christian School. Apart from her love of reading and writing, she is also obsessed with learning languages, dancing, and watching the latest Korean dramas.