BUT there is an issue. The issue is that Chinese desserts SUCK. I have done a little research, hoping against hope that my memories of Chinese restaurant desserts are actually only part of the picture. No, my memories are the entire picture. I should have done my research before I offered to bring dessert to the dinner that my cousins Terry and Brian are hosting. I would surely perish if I lived in China. The top of the line, premium, elite dessert, the one you have at weddings and banquets, is red bean soup. It's mushed up red beans that are sweet. That's just not right. These sweet red beans are also put into buns, pure white steamed buns (no flavour, just texture) and, again, called dessert. And cakes are steamed, not baked. I also discovered Water Chestnut Cake. No flour, just water chestnuts. There's also Eight Treasure Pudding which as far as rice puddings go is "chewy rather than creamy". Then there's Neen Gow, or New Year's Cake, made from glutinous rice flour. I don't think so.
I settle on Cherries in the Snow. Doesn't it sound poetic? It's an almond milk gelatin cut into cubes (the snow) topped with a cherries and port sauce. There are 3 things that intimidate me: yeast, shortening, and gelatin. Yeast because it's ugly, it smells bad, and it's alive. Shortening because it's an unnatural white and is used in pie crust that I never have attempted to master. My mother was a great pie crust maker. I can't compete with that. Gelatin intimidates me because it also seems unnatural. And isn't it made from horse parts or something? Anyway, I am woman, I am invincible, I can work with gelatin.
Cherries in the Snow |
Just in case Cherries in the Snow is a bomb I decide we need a back up dessert. We go to a Chinese bakery in Chinatown to buy a cake. This is always an adventure. My cousins who grew up in Vancouver all went to Chinese school as kids where they learned basic Cantonese. My family moved east when I was very young so my sister and I never did. Reportedly the first language I spoke was Cantonese but my parents soon realized they had better teach me English. Their own ability to speak Cantonese was basic so although we got by for a little while they knew it would not equip me for all the talking that was to come. The clincher was when I spoke to another kid in Cantonese and when that kid didn't respond, because she didn't understand Cantonese, I punched her! Anyway, I've come a long way from that...!?
When I'm in a Chinese store I immediately feel a connection. These are my people. This is my culture. But although I recognize a lot of the food I have no idea what any of it is called. The shopkeepers speak to me in Chinese but I have no idea what they're saying. I feel like an impostor. The Hubby comes in with me. Although he's not Chinese he fits in more than me. Nothing is expected of him. He can stumble with pronunciation of words, they can laugh at his ignorance, it's all expected. The shopkeepers ask us if we want something written on the cake. Yes, Happy New Year please. Do they understand us? No idea. They bring it out proudly showing us their calligraphy.What does it say? I have no idea.
Happy New Year Cake...I think |
This is the fortune that was inside my fortune cookie |
I am content in our version of Chinese New Year. Happiness has arrived.
Happiness |
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