Porridge

Every country, every nation has a unique culture, especially when it comes to food. Food is not as vibrant as music rather, just a short moment can draw people closer together. Food is a harmony of taste buds, sharing daily eating habits, helping people better understand each other. A food lover like me is really confused when choosing only one favorite food. However, when I thought of the emotions, memories, the joys of eating this dish, I decided to share it with everyone. This dish is porridge, an extremely simple and warm dish, both literally and figuratively.

"DSC_8780.JPG" by autan

Rice is a cultural beauty of most Southeast Asian countries. With abundant fresh water and fertile soil all year round, they are suitable for growing and developing rice. Stretching from plains to hills, everywhere you can admire the immense green from the fields. It is the freshest green I've ever seen.

There are so many delicious dishes made from rice, such as fried rice, rice rolls, sushi, sticky rice, so many that I can't remember them all. Every time I mention the special aroma of rice, I remember the aroma when rice is cooked and boiled on the fire. It was my own childhood taste. As a child, I didn't have many teeth and they were really weak, so my mother came up with a way to cook porridge for me to eat every day. I do not know the real recipe of porridge exactly like. I only know how to cook in the style of my mother, because I have watched her cook this dish every day. First, she washed the rice so many times. While waiting for the water to boil to cook rice, my mother used to wash vegetables beside. In my childhood memories, every kind of vegetable that I hated, my mother would prepare them to cook for me. I'm not a picky eater, but sometimes I pretend to dislike this and dislike that. Yet whenever my mother finished cooking, I grimaced but ate continually. After preparing a lot of vegetables like carrots, potatoes, beans, mushrooms, and tofu, the pot of water next to it would start to boil. My mother would put rice in, stirring constantly, so that it would not stick together. I like the rice scent slowly ripening in the atmosphere. At that time, I would pretend to ask her if I had a half of chocolate bar from yesterday that I could eat. Although I knew my mother wouldn't agree, I still asked until she asked me to bring the previously prepared vegetable basket to her. She would put everything in after the rice is done, and add some water to the pot. Next, mom would stir fry meat, shrimp, or fish in another pan, season with some salt and pepper. Then she put in the pot of boiling porridge. Therefore, I had my hot bowl of porridge.

"Pidan Chok" by chooyutshing 

Even though the porridge is very hot, each piece of porridge I have to blow for a long time, my mother always forced me to eat when it was hot, she said that it would not be as delicious when it cooled down. While I was eating that hot porridge, my mother would cool down a small plate of porridge for Lucky, my lovely dog. She was the only member in the family who was not force-fed by my mother, while the porridge was hot. My father next to me would look at my hot bowl of porridge, ask if I ate it well. After seeing me eat well, my dad would take his own bowl. My mother would stand there smiling and peeling fruits for us.

I don't remember the year when I stopped eating porridge; but the last time my mother cooked porridge for me, it didn't have as many vegetables as it used to, or I didn't hate them anymore. After that, my parents separated, every time we finished dinner with the endless arguments, sometimes I could understand and sometimes not. So up to now, I still don't understand the reason why they are separated. I also didn't have time to sit and think about whether I had to live with my mother or with my dad, because they had already chosen me. I lived alone. When their clothes and furniture were no longer in the room, I was 18 years old.

While I said I was not sad because of my parents, I lied. But I understand and sympathize with them. They also need their own lives. I started to learn to cook from there. I fry the eggs for Lucky along with the boiled vegetables. I cook for myself a pot of chicken soup and shiitake mushrooms. I also made a salted yolks cake for myself. But none of them makes me delicious. I started to learn how to cook rice porridge, just like my mother's way. Sometimes I add eggs or some kind of beans that I like, leave the carrots that I pretended not like in the old days, although when I ate it, I could not tell which vegetables they were. I even left a small plate of porridge for Lucky, and she still ate it.

"161225-027" by waferboard

Sometimes my parents still go out for dinner. Mom will ask me about housing issues. Dad will ask me how this car is. My parents gave me a car, quite nice. Using that as an excuse, I invited them home, I wanted to cook them with the three of us favorite porridge. My mother’s bowl was more onion less black pepper. My father’s bowl was less meat, and I would add some chili paste for him. He likes something spicy. All three of us gathered on the dinner table. Lucky was quietly lying beside the cactus pot that my mom had just bought. Before that, when my parents were not separated, we rarely had the opportunity to eat at the same table. I was always the first to eat, then my mom and dad would eat last after preparing our desserts. My mother talked about her new job, where she had lots of beautiful and strange flowers. I am very sorry for my mother, because when she was living in this house, she could not plant a garden full of peony that she loved. Both my father and I are allergic to pollen. My father told us about his practice of shopping alone. He still wondered why my mother and me could spend hours there. My mother and I both laughed at him, who had been wondering about this for over ten years. In order to have that happy evening, I didn't tell them about the burn on my arm while I carelessly cooked the porridge pot. I also did not tell them about my broken pots of porridge. There was a pot for that I added too much salt. There was another pots that I forgot to adjust the heat to low and ended up burning the rice. At such times, I would often turn around to see if my mom was there, so I could ask her what to do. But my mother wasn't in the kitchen to clean up my mess, my father wasn't in the garage, fixing the vacuum cleaner I damaged. I missed them so much. That night, I ate more vegetables than usual, I added a little chili even though I didn't eat spicy food. I want my parents to see, I'm older now, they don't need to be apologetic for not being able to live with me. I hope they live a better, happier life.

"Love Quotes" by Sam Howzit

Sometimes I get sick, my parents still take time to look after me. My father will still be with me on the sofa, watching an old movie from ancient times. I watched that movie a hundred times, and my dad probably a thousand times, but we still watch it happily. My mother will still be in the kitchen, cooking dinner for us. Especially in the eyes of my mom, porridge like magic. She told me to eat hot porridge to cool down, to reduce fever. I don't know if hot porridge really cures the fever, but every time I eat it, I feel like everything is fine. The discomfort in my body does not make me tired anymore, the pain in my arms and legs does not prevent me from taking care of Lucky, even the excess porridge from yesterday can still help me stay happy all day. My mother probably didn't fool me, the porridge is really magical.

If my parents are asked about their favorite food, I think they will answer the same as me. Porridge. In a spoonful of hot porridge, there is full of nutrition, full of meaning. I hope that when my parents are tired, they will also tell me. I don't know what to do much, but I'll quietly cook them a nice bowl of porridge. I'll cut the vegetables really and nicely. I'll cook them well. I'll force my mother to eat a lot of pepper, even though she doesn't like it. I will force my father to eat some fish even though he doesn't like it. I want to look after them, like they took care of me as a child.