Family meals

SECTIONCODE: 37-food-utt
SECTION: food
SUBSECTION: Under the table
HED:
SUBHED:
STARS:
P/Q: She had just graduated with a degree in psychology or sociology or mind-fucking or something, with a minor in theatre.
W/C:
TEXT:

Every year my late grandfather would host an end of the summer family gathering and the extended family would come together for a spectacular dinner he made from scratch. He grew his own vegetables and picked them before the season was over; he killed chickens, frogs, pigs, and made plum wine. It was the one time of year the entire family travelled from all over the world to eat, not because we want to but because we had to.
Since his passing, no one had bothered to organise all the uncles and aunties together. The cousins didn’t get to see eachother grow up. And the family members became strangers again, happily.
My dad, feeling his legacy, decided to call together the family again this summer. I couldn’t make up my usual excuse of living overseas, or being overworked. They were all coming to Hong Kong.
They say you can choose your friends, but you can’t choose your family. And as I sat down for our first meal together, this was never more evident.
In the five years since our grandfather died we hadn’t been together in the same room. I had a good look around the table. Who were all these strangers? How did my cousin Janice with an eating disorder grow to be over six feet tall? Who was uncle Paul’s new wife, or was it the same wife with some work done? Why did step-cousin Jenifer go blonde? “No, that’s Jimmy’s girlfriend –no one knows her name,” my sister whispered.
There were kids as well, but I had no idea who they belonged to. Three of them sat head down with their PS3, no one bothered to feed them, no one bothered to even introduce them. The aunties and uncles made dumb flatteries such as how everyone lost weight (lies) or how no one’s aged (more lies). No one mentioned to auntie Jane that she gave her new daughter a porn star name, or how uncle Paul has a new girlfriend but was still wearing his wedding ring, or the fact that no one bothered invited uncle George. “Uncle George is still contesting [grandfather’s] will,” my rumour-mill sister said. We were a sorry bunch.
On many occasions I enjoy a proper Chinese banquet, but this might be the longest 11-courses I’ve ever eaten. I turn to Jimmy’s no-name girlfriend to make contact, and was sorry I did. She had studied journalism as I had and was looking for a job as a broadcast news anchor. She had dyed her hair from black to blonde and gotten a ridiculous Thai boob job. The entire first three-courses she spent bitching that news producers wouldn’t take her seriously.
Now cousin Jon and I always got along. While the women had done a good job of raising their daughters to be future golddiggers and housewives, Jonny and I were reformed hippies. I want to give him credit for teaching me how to make bugs explode in the microwave, but it might have taught him that. I was looking forward to spending time with him, as he was the only non-crazy of the bunch. Unfortunately he came as the handbag of his 22 year old girlfriend who wouldn’t let him speak a word. She had just graduated with a degree in psychology or sociology or mind-fucking or something, with a minor in theatre. She wanted to take this trip to explore career options in Asia.“This is where it is all happening right now,” she was telling me this. Over conpoy and egg white scramble, she went on and on about her expertise in what… I’m still trying to understand. An expertise she gained from studying in a classroom for the last 15 months and now has some degree in. She spoke with so much naiveté and punk attitude of absoluteness, that I actually felt old for judging her. “What is your intention with Jon?” I wanted to make this weird. Well, that ended her air of certainty.
My aunt Nancy said someone really wanted to meet me. I didn’t even know I had a cousin named Alexis. And within nine seconds of sitting with her I could tell she didn’t want to meet me either, but was nudged by aunt Nancy to butter me up to write her college applications for her. “We’re family, we’re supposed to help eachother,” my aunt turned 90 degrees in her chair to inject. “I’m happy to edit what she writes, but I can’t recount her life’s experiences for her,” I said not-so-politely, plus I didn’t even know she existed until tonight.
“So how much does your employers pay you,” asked my great-uncle Tow. I wanted to tell him my eyes were up here. “The important thing is you’re happy! Hahaha!” he creeps me out till this day. I wondered if my parents ever left me alone with him.
I wish my grandfather was here. He would be sitting next to me right now, and I know what he would’ve said when the soy chicken came out, “I make this better!” and he could make it so much better. He was a chef, and he set out to train his grand kids into gourmands. He fed me lobster as my first solid food. What kind of twisted person feeds babies bottom-feeder crustacean as their first meal? He found it to be the ultimate expression of love and giving his little ones the best foot forward in life. He was also the one who taught me how to smoke. And when he hit the 90 marker, his doctors told him not to quit as it would kill him if he stopped his two packs a day habit. He was so old he would tell his self-editor to shut up aloud and said it as they were. We got along the best. And now that all of my grandparents have passed, and I know I’m not supposed to do this, I can say he was my favourite.