Many Cultures, United by Produce

A Vietnamese couple stocks up on lemon grass. Two Muslim women wearing head coverings pick among the persimmons, which happen to be imported from Israel. An old Korean woman compares radishes. A Haitian family gathers mangoes.

I'm standing with eight Jewish women around the pineapple bin at Han Ah Reum, the Korean supermarket in Wheaton, and although I count 14 languages being spoken in the produce section alone, and although I see clothing traditions from around the world, the Korean guys who run the store have gathered at the perfume counter to stare at our group.

They don't mean to be nosy, and believe me, they have seen every variety on the planet, but they can't figure out this group. This is what they see:

In one hand, Louise Fisher (no relation) is waving a thick book that catalogues Asian vegetables; in the other, she holds "The Laws of Kashrut," a volume on Jewish dietary rules. "What's a Jewish class without texts?" she asks.

Fisher, a caterer and cooking teacher in Potomac, has brought her students to Han Ah Reum for a class on how to navigate one of the jewels of contemporary suburbia, the Asian supermarket.

Somehow, the sight of a cluster of Jewish women from Potomac fascinates and amuses the Koreans who run the place. "We get tours coming in," says Hae Um, the assistant manager. "Indians, African Americans. Not like this."

No, not like this: Fisher is a whirlwind of food enthusiasm. She leads her charges through the vegetables, snapping peas, dispensing recipes, describing how different cultures use the same legume -- each, of course, claiming it as its own.

A family speaking Farsi gathers around the Persian zucchini, which is also known as Korean squash, which Yemenites stuff with couscous. A Hasidic man fills a bag with Kirby cucumbers, which are also marketed as Persian or Israeli cucumbers.

The women in Fisher's class, meanwhile, are fixated on the fuzzy melons and the humongous dongchimi radishes. "I've always seen all this great stuff, and I wonder, 'What do they do with it?' " says Donna Goldman, one of the students.

Fisher, who spent 20 years as a contract worker for the State Department before yielding to her inner cook, has answers covering dozens of the fruits and vegetables (and fish and sauces) that are staples in much of the world, yet not at Giant or Safeway.

She shows how even at the Korean market, the vegetables familiar to American dinner tables sit on the big bins up top, while the more obscure items are tucked into baskets at floor level.

"This is a kumquat," Fisher says, picking up a package of fruit. "I take these puppies, bake them with chicken and herbs and I charge $35 for it," when she's catering. "Look at this," she says, pointing to the price tag: $1.12.