Families and people are the strangest things. We have our own ways of doing things, so normal we never think twice until an outsider tells you they don't do it the same way. I remember the first couple times I ate dinner with Darrell's family: All of a sudden, everyone else had finished their soup and was putting their bowl on the counter to make room for rice and the main courses. At my family's dinner table, the soup stays to the side of your dinner plate so you can drink it all throughout dinner. And if it's delicious or of you want more flavor to white rice, you spoon it all over your rice. At Darrell's, I felt so caught off guard and rushed because I'm used to only drinking half my bowl of soup at a time.
Because we make our soup last throughout dinner, that also means we never serve an extra beverage. I remember having to tell myself to remember to drink the juice that was in front of me, as if I'd never had a beverage with dinner or something. Hey, it felt like a lot to juggle at that time...
Two years ago after our first half marathon, his parents took us to dim sum. It was funny, because every family has their "usual", and theirs was definitely not ours. Having grown up Adventist, there are a number of pork dishes my siblings and I didn't eat as we were younger, and after years and years of the classic Chinese brunch, you just have your favorites. My family also never flips our chopsticks when getting food from the serving plate, done so you don't use the side you've been eating from to touch food that others may eat. I tried adapting to this, but I suddenly and self-consciously found myself eating from the back end of the chopsticks when I had forgotten to flip them back. Or wanting to stop mid-way to picking up a shumai because I was still using my main eating end...
We went to a classic, family-style Chinese restaurant last night, and I was struck again with both familial and generational (with regards to how long we've been in the states) differences. His parents, grandma, him and I made five but were seated at a large table with eight seats, complete with a lazy susan. This is the usual table my family of six gets seated at, and we just leave two empty chairs together and plop mom's purse on one of them. But everyone in Darrell's family thought it was too big, and they looked around the restaurant wondering why a smaller table couldn't work.
Everyone flipped open the menu, perusing through options...or at least, the options printed in English. In my family, mom makes most of the decisions. If we want something, we describe it to mom and she tells the waiter using its formal Chinese name. I don't even know if I can figure out my favorite dishes in English translation, maybe "Shredded lamb with onions and black pepper sauce." Who knows, right? And if my parents don't like the combos offered, they just chat up a storm with the waiter or owner (who might already be their friend) to see what can be worked around. That's how we hear what the restaurant's specialty is, or what different ways they can cook the fish that they don't list in the menu.
One day I may find my access to this Chinese restaurant secret menu limited, but I've never had to think about it. But last night, I made some remark to Darrell about how every Chinese restaurant prints their specials on colored paper and tapes them straight to the wall, and he nodded a, "Yup-The stuff we don't know we're missing because we can't read it!" I've never had to think about that.
Darrell's parents asked for waters, but it's not till I noticed Darrell using his teacup as a receptacle for the spare rib bones that I realize they drink one cup of tea for starters, then water for the rest of the meal. I think I was the only one to refill my tea that night, which may be the least I've had at a Chinese restaurant in awhile. For contrast, my family's tea cups get refilled endlessly throughout dinner and even after, as we're packing our to-go boxes or waiting for the check. We even used to end with a "乾杯!" (cheers! or literal translation, "dry cup") as we clinked our tea cups one last time before leaving the restaurant. [edit: the boy has informed me that the rest of the family drinks plenty of tea. I keep forgetting that he just doesn't like tea!]
I take mental note of these things: I had never had lettuce wraps before, which is a favorite for their family. I don't have a Cantonese-speaking grandma, sitting mostly in silence except for the occasional short sentence about the food or a phrase to Darrell's mom in her native tongue. I never speak English to waiters and waitresses at a Chinese restaurant. I rarely go to a restaurant with my parents where they haven't already befriended half the workers.
But while these things catch my attention, other things flow so naturally. Everyone grabbing a take-out box to pack up leftovers. Darrell and I, the children, carry them out, not the adults. Eating from small rice bowls with chopsticks. And later that night, when we're at his grandma's eating dessert, I consciously remain standing until she takes a seat with her bowl of ice cream. Ice cream at 11 pm: on one hand, I feel like my family doesn't regularly do desserts. Yet late nights of Milo's and cookies from the snack aisle of the Chinese supermarket are not unusual, so maybe we're more alike that we think.
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