It's funny that for me, it's the little things that remind me of my parents. While I was at Macy's yesterday, I came up some pressure cookers, and they reminded me of the one my parents had. Mom used it a lot to make rice soup, rice, and stew. It cooked really fast, and everything tasted very good. I especially like the rice soup my mom made: she'd put different types of rice and a little green peas, dates, and sugar, and after half an hour of cooking the rice soup became really rich and thick. I might have mentioned it in other posts but I don't mind saying it again: my parents' cooking was like no one else's. I can't tell what made it so good, whether it was the way Mom cooked things, or the fresh ingredients, or because I just became accustomed to it.
I remember very clearly that they cooked together alot. Mom did most of the actual cooking: stir-frying, sauteing, boiling, but Dad got the vegetable from the garden, washed them one by one, and cut them up for her. Eating at the Cheng's house was an ordeal, on average I'd say they each spent an hour preparing a meal, although they sometimes might spread the work throughout the day.
How can I put to words what I have lost?
I think shortly after they passed away I watched a movie called Ratatouille, about a mouse wanting to be chef. Towards the end of the movie, the mouse served up a humble dish, Ratatouille, to a highly demanding and harsh food critic. It was rather unimpressive in its appearance, but when the food critic took one bite of it, he had a out of body experience, where he remembers this was exactly how his mother made it for him when he had a bad day.That meal changed his whole outlook on life, and he became a happier man.
That's the way I felt about my parents' cooking. They cooked humble meals, using little portion of meat and sauces, but the food always comes out so flavorful. Its not the type of food you'd serve to guests, but man I'd give anything to just taste one of their steam buns or dumplings! I feel like a kid again when I eat their food.
Tom, I’m so moved by your writing. I lost my mom when I was 21 so I can relate to what you wrote. Your parents will never be forgotten. Their pictures at the hallway of our Chinese church constantly reminds me of the memories of them, and whenever I stood there to gaze upon them in the picture, I felt the pain in my heart. It won’t be gone until I meet them in heaven again. The past Saturday night I had a dream about them… a group of us Chinese believers were fellowshipping in your home, at first your parents were not there. Then I saw your mom standing among us, smiling and looked the same as usual. I turned around and found your father was also sitting among us, looking at all the people with the smile that is so familiar to us. In the dream we were all happy as usual and were enjoying the time together. Then I looked at your mom and found she was not there but left a warm yellow form like a silhouette... the rest of the dream I couldn’t remember. On Sunday Joseph came to Chinese church and when he talked about you focus on God after your parents were gone, he wept for several minutes. His love for you is so obvious. He also mentioned your parents made the best dumplings… and a few hours later you posted about their cooking, too.
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