Day 8: “New Food” -The Jinya Bun

There's something profound about the intersection of friendship, food, and the willingness to step beyond our familiar edges. Today's nervous system novelty came wrapped in a steamed bun at Jinya Ramen Bar - a place that holds sacred space in our mother-daughter ritual, especially when my daughter graces us with her presence from afar.

The backstory weaves its own nervous system story: since age nine, my daughter has been lovingly mentored by our Cambodian Chinese neighbors, their generosity extending far beyond shared fence lines. Through countless bowls of homemade noodles and adventures to hidden culinary gems - those unassuming hole-in-the-wall temples where the most transcendent food often dwells - her palate has been initiated into depths of flavor that make her discerning, almost impossibly so when it comes to ramen. Jinya earned its place as her chosen sanctuary, the one restaurant that calls us back each time she returns home.

With our dear friend Laura joining our trinity of conversation, we found ourselves navigating the subtle dance of adaptation when our usual outdoor haven was compromised by the harsh intrusion of delivery truck fumes. Sometimes expansion means embracing the indoor alternative, letting go of our attachment to the familiar patio ritual.

But here's where the real nervous system magic unfolded: in choosing the Jinya Bun over my predictable ramen selections. I am, by nature, a creature of comforting patterns - I'll venture between different ramen variations, but rarely leap into entirely foreign territory. Today felt different. Today called for courage wrapped in soft, pillowy dough.

The Jinya Bun arrived like a small meditation cushion - deceptively simple, holding complexity within. Slow-braised pork chashu nestled with crisp cucumber and tender mixed greens, all embraced by their signature bun sauce and Kewpie mayonnaise. The first bite was a symphony of textures I hadn't anticipated: the yielding, almost cloud-like softness of the steamed bun (which my skeptical mind worried might be too squishy) creating perfect counterpoint to the bright crunch of lettuce, the silk of well-tended meat, and the creamy richness of sauce.

What surprised me most was how this textural conversation mirrored our own - the way we moved between the soft vulnerability of sharing dreams and visions for our work lives, and the crisp clarity of insights about our expanding selves. There's something about taking turns in the rhythm of speaking and listening that creates its own kind of nourishment, stretching our capacity to hold both our own truth and another's simultaneously.

In the gentle chaos of a restaurant alive with conversation, surrounded by the familiar comfort of chosen family and the unfamiliar delight of new flavors, my nervous system found exactly what it needed: the perfect balance of challenge and safety, novelty and belonging.

Sometimes expansion tastes like courage wrapped in a steamed bun, served alongside the sacred act of deep conversation with souls who see us fully.