my immigrant parents

I haven’t been cooking or baking like crazy at home. Somehow I seemed to have lost myself in my parents cooking..which I still and probably will always believe is better than mine. Have you ever heard the phrase “it just doesn’t taste like my mamas”? It’s always been true for me. I can make something that my mommy makes and it’s her recipe but the end result just doesn’t satisfy my taste buds. Maybe it’s because I believe it will taste good because my mommy makes it for me. Growing up in a traditional Chinese household is no walk in the park. True to the stereotype, my parents were/still are very strict when it comes to behavior and academics. I think one time I had a conversation with my mommy about boys and she said I couldn’t date till I graduated from college. I will always miss and love my mommy’s cooking. It’s very different growing up in a traditional Chinese household when you are set in your “American” ways like I was as a teenager. I never fully appreciated what my parents sacrificed for me as a child. My sister and I were born in the United States but my parents are both immigrants. As I grew up, I never had that lovey dovey relationship with my mommy. Most of the time I was afraid to tell her things for fear that it would upset her. Her wisdom is extremely important to me unless it comes to fashion or my need for sweets. Although she’s not the type to be throwing around the words I love you daughter, she showed her love in other ways. I learned my love of cooking, baking, and food from my mother. Even though my baba (father) cooks better than I do, I will never hesitate to point out that my mommy’s cooking is the best. It always has been and always will be. I remember as a child she would always pick out the best parts of dishes to give to my sister and I. For my mother, it was always the cheek of steamed fish or a meaty lobster piece in garlic lobster noodles. For my baba, it was the drumstick of hainese chicken. Because of my baba, I have always thought that the best part of a chicken is the drumstick. Therefore, I will only eat that part. Yes, I’m a bit biased. BaBa has taught me the way. My sister still laughes at me till this day because every time there’s chicken for dinner, I will automatically reach for the drumstick. Sometimes she’s generous and she let’s me have both of them! Through my parents encouragement I have been able to keep up with this blog. I can’t peel an apple with a knife. I have to use a peeler. For those of you who use a peeler also, you’re probably wondering what the heck I’m talking about. My baba also had a way of peeling an apple with a knife. The skin would be in a long curly circle sort of like ribbon. I always tried to imitate it but mine broke every time. As a result, I just have baba peel my apples. He has never objected to my request although he doesn’t hesitate to tease me about not being able to do it. Hopefully I will get the opportunity to post more recipes. I’ve been busy with family issues that I will not get into.

Fail Sweetly,


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