On July 3, 2011, I anxiously
awaited
my
letter
from
Hogwarts. I had been preparing
for this fateful day for years. I
had already procured my coveted
rosewood wand from a website
promising
“one-of-a-kind”
custom wands and a shining
black robe that was admittedly a
bit too small, having purchased
it years ago for my fourth grade
Ginny
Weasley
Halloween
costume. But on my 11th birthday,
the time for my Hogwarts letter
had finally arrived. To my bitter
disappointment,
that
letter
wasn’t in the mail on my birthday,
but I didn’t lose hope. They must
have made a mistake, I thought.
It wasn’t until September 1 when
I dreamed sadly of the train
leaving the station on Platform
9 ¾ and accepted my mundane
Muggle existence.
I wasn’t alone. Countless kids
experienced heartbreak when
the heavy, yellowing envelope
didn’t appear like magic on
their doorsteps come their 11th
birthdays. For many, the “Harry
Potter”
world
stretched
far
beyond the pages of the books
and enchanted kids of all ages to
believe in the hidden Hogwarts
castle, nestled in the rolling
hills of the Scottish highlands.
I grew up in a generation where
it was rare to meet someone
who hadn’t read the “Harry
Potter” books or at least seen
the movies. I, like many of my
friends, experienced the joy of

this magical literary world in
my elementary school years and
spent much of my youth seeking
out similar magical adventures
in other fantasy series like
“Divergent,”
“The
Hunger
Games,” “Percy Jackson” and
“Twilight.” The fantasy series
was the core of my early reading
career and dominated the young
adult literary community at the
turn of the century. This literary
culture shaped my experiences
growing up in the 2000s, but its
roots trace back to the ’90s — to

a changing American culture
that opened doors for more
fantastical novels like “Harry
Potter.”
The first in the seven-book
series, “Harry Potter and the
Sorcerer’s Stone” (or “Harry
Potter and the Philosopher’s
Stone,” as the most devoted
“Harry Potter” fans know it was
originally called), was released in
1997. The story behind its release
is legendary: the idea came to
J.K. Rowling during a train ride

to London’s King’s Cross and
over the next five years, she
wrote this soon-to-be wildly
popular series on scraps of paper
and in long-form writing. When
she tried to get it published,
however, she was turned down
again and again. Publishers told
her no one would be interested
in reading books about a magical
make-believe world.
After finally finding a receptive
publisher,
Rowling’s
fantasy
series took the world by storm,
and it was immediately clear that

the doubtful publishers could
not have been more wrong. The
books were so wildly popular
that in 1998, before books three
through seven had even been
published, Rowling sold the film
rights for the first four “Harry
Potter” books to Warners Bros
for almost 2 billion dollars.
Evidently, the public was ready
for a new wave of fantasy novel
mania.
For many of us, their initial
hesitation seems unthinkable.

The idea that such a cherished
series of books, one that shaped
much of my life growing up,
might not exist today if Rowling
had heeded the initial negative
feedback and abandoned the
idea, quite honestly terrifies me.
Why did a book series that has
now generated over 7.7 billion
dollars in revenue and captured
the hearts of people of all ages
worldwide
inspire
so
little
confidence in publishers in the
late 1990s?
In truth, fantasy novels were
less than popular in the ’90s.
Books about real life prevailed
over fantasy novels, and most
people lost interest in stories not
rooted in reality. Discussion of
fantasy books brought to mind
older books like “The Chronicles
of Narnia” (published between
1950 and 1956) and “Lord of the
Rings” (published between 1954
and 1955), but few contemporary
varieties found their way to the
top of reading lists. These books
had seen their glory days, but
by the 1990s they were simply
viewed
as
old-fashioned.
In
short, the fantasy novel genre
remained
mostly
stagnant
over the course of the ’90s.
Meanwhile, American culture
flourished and happiness levels

were at an all-time high. After
the fall of the Berlin wall, life
felt electric, like anything was
possible. Maybe this is a clue
as to why fantasy novels had
fallen so out of style. Fantasy
novels provide an escape from
the mundane world, a way to
detach from reality. The most
successful fantasy books are an
immersive experience where, for
a short time, the real world fades
away, and an illusion of magic
and adventure takes over. Maybe
in the early ’90s people felt no
desire to depart from reality.
Why should they, when they
had a unique culture of music,
TV and arts at the tips of their
fingers in the real world? We can
only speculate.
Nevertheless, as the decade
drew
to
a
close,
anxieties
surrounding the beginning of
the 21st century took hold. With
an explosion of technological
innovations came fears about
what uncertainties the future
held. The world was changing,
and for many, this fact fostered
unease. This could explain why
“Harry Potter” blew up the way it
did. People were scared, and they
needed an escape. The series was
already genius to begin with, but
the receptive minds of people in

the late ’90s, young and old alike,
offered the perfect conditions
for an explosion of popularity
that no one could have foreseen.
After “Harry Potter,” people
were hooked. No one could get
enough of the enticing escape
into a fantasy world, hence the
skyrocketing demand for fantasy
novels in the early 2000s. Within
the next ten years, writers
caught on to the trends, and
countless fantasy books graced
the shelves, ready to be devoured
by the eager public.
The turn of the century kicked
off a new literary era defined by
the fantasy series, and its effects
are still felt. Every few years, like
clockwork, a new story joins the
long line of fantasy powerhouses.
This development transcended
the realm of books, influencing
other media forms in recent
years as well. Most recently, the
TV show “Game of Thrones”
swept the United States up into
the latest craze. The show had
people of all ages staying up
into the late hours of the night,
putting their lives on hold to
blow through eight seasons of
thrill and uncertainty. Evidently,
the escape from reality remains
a welcome comfort in people’s
lives.

WARNER BROS. PICTURES

‘Harry Potter’ and the late
’90s fantasy series craze

EMMA DOETTLING
Daily Arts Writer

B-SIDE: BOOKS

This literary culture shaped
my experiences growing up in
the 2000s, but its roots trace
back to the ’90s — to a changing
American culture that opened
doors for more fantastical novels
like “Harry Potter.”

It might be on a somewhat
warmer winter day, with the
miraculous force of the bright,
warm winter sun, that you
question the concept of home at
perhaps the most unlikeliest of
places: the intersection of Main
and Liberty Streets — the heart
of the fine dining restaurant
scene in Ann Arbor.
Regional cooking, especially
for those not native to Ann
Arbor, may very well serve as
the baseline, idyllic conception
of home. A non-fussy yuxiang
eggplant could be the hallmark
comforter for those displaced
from Flushing, New York or
cities such as Chengdu within
Sichuan province proper. The
simple
pupusa
might
make
you pine for the comfort and
hospitality of an El Salvadorian
cafe
most
common
across
pupuserias abundant at Pico
Boulevard
of
Los
Angeles.
Regional cooking, while not
entirely well represented across
Ann Arbor, are commonplace
enough to satisfy your cravings
for what you’ve been missing
while you are away from home.
But there is a case to be made
for the variety of restaurants
that
might
not
reflect
the
cooking endemic to a specific

region. These restaurants may
not blast radioactive amounts of
Scoville units that miracuously
bring balance to their dishes.
They may not serve waterfalls
of intestine soup that can only
be described as “dank of the
highest quality.” Some of these
establishments might be ones

which you simply dismiss as
“fusion.”
Pacific Rim by Kana is among
the latter of these restaurants —
one that captivates some with
its
Pan-Asian
theme
while
disgusting others who abhor
the amalgamation of different,

supposedly
sacred,
regional
cuisines.
Residents of the ’90s may
remember
that
Pacific
Rim
was once a Korean restaurant
called Kana, well known for its
signature strong ginger tea and
dak bokkeum — a spicy Korean
braised chicken dish analogous

to the warming, comforting
powers of a chicken paprikash.
Kana, named after the Korean
word meaning “to go” or “are
you going,” was once a small
stand near the U-M Medical
Campus before moving to their
current
location
at
Liberty

Street. Owners Byung Dok and
Kun Hi Ko ultimately passed
their restaurant to their son
Y.B. Ko, who partnered with
now chef-owner Duc Tang to
reinvent Kana into Pacific Rim.
The reinvention of Kana into
Pacific Rim was a transformation
from that of a Korean diner-
esque eatery into that of fine
dining.
“Pan-Asian”
consists
primarily of East and Southeast
Asian
dishes
prepared
and
plated with French techniques.
Tang’s
dishes
superficially
resemble popular dishes of the
’90s and 2000s — though the
influences from and ties to Kana
are unmistakable.
A cursory glance at Pacific
Rim’s Japanese-style sablefish
immediately identifies one of
the dish’s roots — sablefish, or
black cod, was popularized by
Nobu Matsuhisa during the
’90s, a variation of a Japanese
marinating technique utilizing
sake lees. A sablefish is an ugly
fish unrelated to the cod that
is commonly found in braised
Korean or Japanese dishes.
Sablefish is quite similar to the
Chilean sea bass; both share
an incredibly soft, tender yet
flaky meat that seems to be
near impossible to overcook.
Thankfully, unlike the Chilean
sea bass that has been overfished
due to the popularity of that one
Jurassic Park scene, sablefish
is a sustainable alternative,
though still relatively pricey.
Ordering
Pacific
Rim’s
sablefish will get you a sweet,
heavily browned piece of moist
fish — the bare whispers of
bitterness from some portions
of the over-caramelized skin
provides
a
much
needed
relief from the sweet-savory
marinade that coats the gushing
flakes of sablefish. The light
tang provided by the tamarind
within the soy glaze provides
an
excellent
foil
to
what
could otherwise be a stolidly
sweet and savory dish. Nobu’s
dishes are well-known to be
showstoppers due to his Nikkei
Peruvian roots — and Tang’s
version of the sablefish might
very well be a sexy black-tie
version of a ’90s classic.
But when you order the sablefish,
the fish is complemented with
a coiled pile of japchae — glassy
Korean noodles stir-fried with
a medley of napa cabbage and
shiitake mushrooms. You’ll find
that unlike many renditions of
japchae you may find across Ann
Arbor’s Korean restaurants, the
japchae served alongside your

sablefish is neither soggy nor
mushy. Your vermicelli noodles
possess the al-dente bite coveted
by Italians and Italian Americans
— yet possesses a vivacious spring.
You’ll find that napa cabbage and
the noodles provide a necessary
textural contrast to your fish.
The japchae tells as poignant
of a story as the fish. The fish
might provide you the context of
Tang’s worldly experiences and
skills, but the japchae proves
Tang as a worthy successor to
Kana’s rich history as one of
Ann Arbor’s local providers of
Korean cuisine.

Tang doesn’t fixate himself
on the label of authenticity:
his coconut-curry soup defies
judgment as the soup lends
itself equal characteristic of a
hearty American root/squash
soup as it does to a somewhat
muddled Thai green curry. Is
it heartwarming because of the
innate resonance of consuming
winter
squashes
and
root
vegetables during the winter, or
because of the dry whispers of a
herbal curry paste slivering past
the
impassive
squash/sweet
potato puree? It’s hard to tell,
but you find yourself ignoring it
— the soup is heartwarming.
You have two choices to round
out your meal: a well-executed
chocolate lava cake that is warm
and fluffy on its exterior as it
is piping hot and luscious in its
interior. The coconut ice cream
provides a nutty quality to your
overall experience while the
macerated
cherries
provide

exciting tartness to an otherwise
somewhat monotonously sweet
dish. Eating Tang’s chocolate
lava cake is a reminder of how
innovative and genius the dish
was in the ’90s — a delicious
trio of string players whose
performance is best seen live
as opposed to experiencing the
dreadful butchered renditions
found at every chain restaurant
and diner littering the Midwest.
But
the
ginger
tea
—
unaltered from the drink found
at the original Kana — might
provide a lingering conclusion
to your meal compared to the

lava cake. Pungent through the
spicy tartness of the ginger,
the inclusion of the apples
and jujubes brings a fruitiness
that ever so gently tempers the
ginger. A drink such as this is the
perfect nasal-busting beverage
for
the
wintery
outdoors.
Drinking the tea passed down to
Pacific Rim from its predecessor
Kana is as much a nostalgic
conclusion to your meal as it is
a curative drink that prepares
you for the cold weather outside.
The hospitality of Kana fills you
in one last time before you have
to leave.
Is it possible that Pacific
Rim’s dishes might not speak
to your conceptions of home
after you finish dining? Perhaps
not; your past life experiences
may vastly differ from mine or
Tang’s. But it’s decidedly Ann
Arbor. Welcome home.
Pacific Rim by Kana is located at
114 W Liberty St.

BRENDON CHO
Daily Food Columnist

On Pacific Rim’s roots in
Asian cuisine, the ’90s

ALLISON ENGKVIST/DAILY

B-SIDE: FOOD NOTEBOOK
B-SIDE: FOOD NOTEBOOK

Regional cooking, while not
entirely well represented across
Ann Arbor, are commonplace
enough to satisfy your cravings
for what you’ve been missing
while you are away from home.
But there is a case to be made for
the variety of restaurants that
might not reflect the cooking
endemic to a specific region.

The reinvention of Kana into
Pacific Rim was a transformation
from that of a Korean diner-esque
eatery into that of fine dining.
“Pan-Asian” consists primarily
of East and Southeast Asian
dishes prepared and plated with
French techniques. Tang’s dishes
superficially resemble popular
dishes of the ’90s and 2000s —
though the influences from and
ties to Kana are unmistakable.

B-SIDE: FOOD
B-SIDE: FOOD

6B —Thursday, Febrauary 27, 2020
b-side
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com