Ingredients
Here are the ingredients for your congee with pan-fried fish and lettuce:
- 1 cup of medium-grain rice
- 8 cups of water (adjust for your preferred congee thickness)
- 200g of white flesh fish, cut into chunks
- 1-2 cups of thinly sliced iceberg lettuce
- Salt and white pepper to taste
- A drizzle of sesame oil (optional)
- Some green shallots (For a FODMAP option, use the green part only)
- Some cooking oil for pan-frying the fish
Method
Here are the steps to prepare your congee with pan-fried fish and lettuce:
- In a non-stick saucepan, combine the rice and water. Bring it to a boil over high heat.
- Reduce the heat to a simmer, cover with a lid, and continue to cook for approximately 1-2 hours or until the rice grains become creamy and smooth. If needed, add more water during the cooking process to achieve your desired congee thickness. Stir occasionally to prevent sticking.
- In a separate frying pan, heat some cooking oil over medium-high heat. Place the fish chunks in the pan and pan-fry them until they turn a golden brown colour on all sides.
- Once the congee is ready, season with salt and pepper. Turn off the heat, and gently stir the thinly sliced iceberg lettuce into the congee. The residual heat will wilt the lettuce.
- To serve, ladle the congee into bowls and top each serving with the pan-fried fish. For extra flavour, drizzle some sesame oil over each bowl and garnish with green shallots.
- Enjoy your comforting congee with pan-fried fish and lettuce!
Memories of my mum’s kindness
Last night, my little boy posed a question that set my heart aglow: “What’s the kindest thing your mommy ever did for you?” Strangely, that same question has been echoing in my thoughts ever since my dear mother passed away a few years ago.
With a nostalgic smile, I replied, “You know, there was this one time when I had cold feet, and she let me tuck them snugly between her legs to warm up.”
But my little boy seemed to expect more, thinking that every mother should naturally be kind, loving, caring, and unfailingly devoted to their children.
So, I went on to share another memory, saying, “Once, when I took a tumble down the stairs, she insisted I have a bowl of soup made with field mice. They said it had a soothing effect on children after a trauma. The mice were brought by a wandering vendor who skillfully balanced a bunch of long bamboo sticks on his shoulders. He’d place a cotton bag at one end of a bamboo, open the lid, and shake out two field mice. Then, with a dramatic flourish, he’d smash the bag on the pebbly ground before handing it to the customer.”
The little boy simply replied, “Oh, that doesn’t really count.”
I then shared yet another memory, one that warms my heart to this day: “On another occasion, I fell terribly ill, unable to eat any solid food. That’s when my mom lovingly cooked me a bowl of fish and lettuce congee.”
Curiosity sparkled in my little boy’s eyes as he asked, “What happened to you?”
I recounted, “I was just in second grade, attending our local primary school. After an exciting basketball game, we rushed back to the classroom. In all the commotion, a fellow classmate tripped over me, and we both landed heavily on a concrete step. My lips were split, and some of my front teeth were damaged. The school principal, with great kindness, took me to the hospital on the back of his push bike. I had to undergo surgery and couldn’t eat solid food for days.”
I added with a touch of emotion, “My mother tried to claim $10 for medical expenses from that boy’s family. But when she discovered that the boy’s parents were divorced, and he lived with his grandmother, who struggled to make ends meet, she immediately told them not to worry about the money.”
My little boy, with a satisfied smile, finally said, “That was nice.” Then, with curiosity, he asked, “What was the boy’s name?”
I replied, “Li Hai Quan 李海全, means ‘a vast ocean.’ He had the brightest, most hopeful eyes.”
And as I reminisced, I couldn’t help but wonder how Li Hai Quan is faring nowadays.



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