My family was never touchy-feely; we didn't often hug, kiss, hold hands, send each other sappy Hallmarks, or even much verbalized, "I love you." However, like a lot of Asians, we consistently show it through our cuisine prepared for each other, recipes passed down from my grandma to my mom to myself. When sick, a bowl of porridge cooked with minced pork would deliver healing nutrients to our body. For a treat, my mom would often prepare us "che," a classic Vietnamese dessert that I had already craved when still inside her womb. Even on busy nights after a full day of work, she would manage a 3- to 5-course, freshly cooked meal to nourish our family. I went to college close to home, and her meals saw me through many sleep-deprived nights for studying. My youngest brother went away for college, and she'd prepare the same meals as care packages to keep him going strong.
I am a grown woman now, and I put home-cooked food on my table not only for the health benefits, but also to express my love, giving my family the best of me. After a long day at work, I opened the door to my dad and brother. They simply plopped down a cardboard box filled with Thai bananas, Ataulfo mangos, and my mom's unmistakable home-cooked flan. "You just got home from work?" my dad asked casually. "How come your dog didn't bark at me when I rang the doorbell? That houseplant I gave you is growing fast." But experience has taught me to listen not to his words but to their meaning: "We are thinking of you. Here is one of your favorite treats. Eat and sleep well tonight. We love you."
No comments:
Post a Comment