Cooking with my Grandma

I only know how to cook heuristically.  I enjoy making meals by recipe because of its precise measurements and try and tested methods are readily available with ratings and comments.  The narrative is concrete; there is a correct method, a correct outcome and a correct taste to be achieved.  You know what to expect, like eating in a chain restaurant. 

Cooking with my Grandma is a different matter.  The same dish can have multiple variations depending on her mood, health and company.  At the beginning of my trip, I planned to learn how to cook with her and transcribe it into English text for me to take home, however, they were simply too circumstantial to be recorded.  There is a base ingredient, such as fish or a particular vegetable, but the rest of the ingredients floats around the main ingredient in a roulette. 

 

Grandma, like most grandmothers, is a woman that cooks for her family and a sort of family algebra is necessary to figure out the quantities for each ingredient- “Let’s put a little less salt than the amount your father likes” or “You should buy half the amount I used when your Fourth Aunt last Tuesday”. Ingredients also change by season. Right now, the humorously-named “teet” melons are in season so every meal, we integrate the melons into our meals.  Illnesses may change the method or ingredients, as may a family death.  My Grandma does not prepare any of the dishes that were my Sixth Uncle’s favourite since he committed suicide.

 

Buying the ingredients is also interesting.  Although there are supermarkets in Hong Kong, my Grandma and my relatives buy their food from chaotic market stalls that line Hong Kong streets and are monitored on a weekly basis by “hawker” police who regulate the quality and prices of the produce.  My relatives find it odd that my food is packaged then frozen.  Refrigerated foods suggest a long travel and a lack of freshness.  My relatives laugh that I have to eat packaged and chilled fishes, perceived to be tougher than those killed and sliced in front of you.  My grandma sent me back to the grocers to exchange tofu that showed signs of being thawed – signs of overnight storage.  You don’t wear nice clothes to shop.  A wayward chop by a butcher may send a spatter of blood or guts your way.  The fish I buy are so fresh; their hearts are still beating slowly in their quartered mid-sections.  Even by the time I take the piece home and rub salt on it half an hour later, the muscles twitches separated from the head.  Seeing such things makes me wonder if I am still hurting the fish somehow as I cook it.  Is its mind and soul still in the flesh? How sufficiently must you damage your flesh until your soul removes itself?

 

Some simple recipes:

All quantities are as much as desired.

 

1.  Steamed “Big Head” Fish

Garlic

Ginger

Onion

Oil

 

Salt

“Big Head” fish

 

Salt

Tofu

 

Water

 

Peel the garlic and use the blunt end of your butcher’s knife to smash the garlic.  Slice the ginger into circles.  Chop the onion into tiny pieces.

 

Rub salt on the fish.  Let sit until the fish is salted to desired amount.

 

Slice the tofu into cubes.  Submerge into salted water.  Leave in salted water until salted to desired amount.

 

Oil the wok and add the garlic, onion and ginger.  Add the fish and tofu to the wok. Stir-fry the fish until the skin is white.  Add water to the fish and cover the wok.  Let steam.

 

2.      “Big Eye” Fish Soup

 

Ginger

“Big Eye” Fish

Choi

Water

 

Wash the choi and chop into desired length.  Boil the water, adding the ginger and choi. 

Fry the fish until lightly grilled.  Add to boiling water.

 

3.      “Teet” melon and glass noodles

 

Ginger

“Teet” melon

Glass noodles

Oyster sauce

Water

 

Wash and dice the melons. Cook in water.  When the melons are sufficiently soft, add the glass noodles and oyster sauce.