Ingredients

(serves 3 as a FODMAP recipe)

• 400g pork scotch fillet (or pork belly, spare ribs), diced
• 1 tbsp. dark soy sauce
• 1 tbsp. sesame oil
• 1 tbsp. white wine
• 2 tsp sugar
• Some green shallot (scallion), sliced (use green part only for a FODMAP diet)
• A little fresh chilli, seeds removed (optional)
• 2 tsp corn flour
• Salt and white pepper to taste
• Toasted sesame seeds, to garnish

Method

• Mix all the ingredients (except for the sesame seeds) thoroughly in a bowl.
• Place the mixture in a shallow bowl.
• Steam the meat for 20-25 minutes or until it is fully cooked.
• Garnish with toasted sesame seeds before serving.

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Reflection on my parents’ love story

As I prepared steamed pork in the rice cooker tonight, a flood of memories rushed back, reminding me of my dear aunt Yi-ma (姨妈) and her exceptional talent for creating this dish. In Chinese culture, ‘Yi-ma’ refers to an aunt from the mother’s side of the family.

It was during a matchmaking visit, arranged for Yi-ma and my father, that my mother’s path crossed with my father’s. 

A Glimpse into My Mother’s Childhood

My mother’s early life was marked by hardship and loss. She was an orphan, born to a maid who later married her elderly master. In the early 1900s, my grandfather, a labourer, ventured to Malaysia to work on a rubber farm, a common pursuit along the south coast of China at the time. Upon his return to China, he acquired farmland and several houses. He also took a concubine—the former maid. His first wife bore him only a daughter, leaving him without sons.

The daughter from his first marriage eventually emigrated to America with her husband. Before my grandfather had a biological son, he adopted a child named Han, a relative’s offspring.

The Sino-Japanese War brought financial hardship to the family. Under circumstances left unspoken, my grandfather and his wives tragically passed away. My mother rarely spoke of this period in her life, but some relatives recounted the family’s struggles, including their inability to collect rent from their properties.

In the 1940s, my mother and her brother grew up together, their sister in America sending them occasional financial support. As young children, they learned to cook and care for themselves.

The adopted son, Han, was significantly older, serving as a soldier in the National Army during the war. Upon his return, he took control of the finances, including funds sent from America and rents. This left the two young orphans with scarce resources, and they depended on daily visits to Han’s home for meagre sustenance, often consisting of thin rice porridge (congee). The memories of this time weighed heavily on my mother, causing her anxiety, sadness, and anger whenever his name was mentioned.

A Move to the city

Around 1950, when my mother was about 12 years old, she found refuge with my aunt Yi-ma’s family, distant relatives from her mother’s side. While the arrangement included household chores and early mornings to prepare breakfast, my mother was grateful for their support.

In the years that followed, my mother’s academic potential became evident when she gained admission to a prestigious high school. However, the financial burden of school fees weighed her down, and the family’s inability to provide the necessary resources left her devastated

A young and beautiful maiden full of dreams

In her youth, my mother was a vision of youthful beauty, brimming with dreams and aspirations. Her journey took her down unexpected paths, each contributing to the tapestry of her life.

Despite her enchanting allure, she faced a setback when her application for an actress role was met with rejection due to her height not meeting the requirements. It was a disheartening moment, but she didn’t let it deter her. Instead, she embraced a job as a childcare worker, finding immense joy and fulfillment in nurturing young minds. Unfortunately, her role was short-lived as it was eventually given to a relative of a well-placed official.

Undeterred, my mother transitioned into the role of a factory worker in a wireless factory. It was during this time that she forged numerous friendships, some of which, in hindsight, made me wonder if they had once been admirers.

Driven by her ambition to migrate to the United States and reunite with her elder sister, my mother chose not to pursue romantic relationships. However, life had other plans. At the age of 28, her dreams were shattered when her beloved sister passed away, leaving her heartbroken and her aspirations unfulfilled

The Serendipitous Meeting of My Parents

During the late 1960s, a brilliant young engineer and his family resided merely two blocks from Yi-ma’s apartment, setting the stage for an unexpected encounter.

The fateful connection between my parents began with a twist of fate. My grandmother, a close friend of Yi-ma’s mother, orchestrated a matchmaking session (相亲) with the intention of introducing my aunt to the young engineer. However, destiny had other plans in store. As the young man crossed the threshold of the apartment, his gaze fell upon another captivating maiden who happened to be visiting Yi-ma that day.

And thus, against all odds, this serendipitous moment marked the beginning of my mother’s and father’s journey together.

Beginning of Married life

The young couple enjoyed a brief courtship filled with laughter and love, ultimately leading to their joyful union in marriage. Their photo album was adorned with cherished snapshots of their happy moments, captured in the park as they shared sweet smiles and embraced each other’s arms.

However, their joyful story took an unexpected turn with my arrival, which coincided with the tumultuous years of the Cultural Revolution. My father received a work assignment that sent him away to the countryside, labouring for another factory. His visits home were infrequent, limited to just ten days each year during Chinese New Year, with occasional brief stopovers while en route to work assignments. My mother’s dreams of a life with an educated husband and comfortable living were abruptly dashed.

In the crowded city, we all squeezed into a terrace house alongside my grandparents, uncles, aunts, and their respective families. The years passed by, and it wasn’t until 13 long years later that my father would return to the city

Yi-ma found happiness in marriage with a kind-hearted man, a senior official at the foreign trade inspection office whom we affectionately called ‘Yi-zhang’ (姨丈), signifying an uncle from the mother’s side. His official role brought him a constant stream of gifts, ranging from fruits and cookies to expensive Chinese liquor presented in ornate bottles. However, Yi-zhang didn’t drink, and it didn’t bother him that some of the liquor turned moldy in unopened bottles, which often turned out to be fake and likely filled with tea.

In addition to these gifts, they enjoyed quiet affluence. Yi-ma inherited her brother’s assets after his tragic death during the Korean War, which included a substantial portfolio of real estate and stocks in Hong Kong.

Aware of our modest financial circumstances, Yi-ma was always generous to us. Each Chinese New Year, she would gift me a generous amount in a red envelope. I still remember her giving me my first $1 note in the early 1970s, a small fortune to a young girl. Unfortunately, my mother confiscated the money, explaining that she needed to provide red envelopes to other children and therefore had to recycle the cash.

Yi-ma and Yi-zhang were the first family we knew to own a color TV and a refrigerator. They often invited us over for meals, serving cold jelly, special treats, or simply sharing a freshly cut watermelon. Their most delectable dish was the steamed pork, cooked in a small metal dish on top of rice, offering a succulent, sweet, salty, and utterly delicious taste.

I cooked some steamed pork tonight, just like how Yi-ma used to cook it.

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