I grew up eating bowls of Chinese migration history. You?
The dining table disappeared beneath a lavish procession of dishes.
Our family took food seriously. It was sacred, even. Dinner was never merely about eating. It was the one time each day when everyone was expected to gather, regardless of schedules, moods or whatever else the world demanded outside that room.
At the centre sat the pièce de résistance: a whole steamed fish, usually sea bass, topped with ribbons of ginger and spring onion in a fragrant pool of oil and soy sauce.
Alongside it were...
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