Scent photograph

Sometimes when I wash a bowl which I have used for steaming white rice, a scent will lazily waft up. Not a pungent smell, nor rich. A gentle smell, simple and soft.

It reminds me of my grandfather: a tall thin man who ate less and less as the cancer ate more and more of him. White rice was important to every single meal and sometimes when I was small and stayed over with them, rice was even part of breakfast.

It reminds me of my grandmother: a short round woman, who cooks amazing meals. Delicious meats and vegetables, stewed, stir-fried, deepfried, steamed, braised, rich with sauces and gravies; steaming pots of soup, crammed with ingredients, intense flavours and magnificently aromatic but in the way of Chinese soups, light and liquid. 73 and still going strong! Go popo!

It makes me think of my daddy, who never feels full without rice in the meal. Rice is not the foil to this man - it's ESSENTIAL.

It makes me think of a time when I was small and very skinny (SIGH), all arms and legs and mouth and stomach.

It makes me think of Chinese New Year Eve and its requisite reunion dinner: never complete with rice, and with plenty of food to liven up the meal. Spicy soya sauce prawns, batter-fried prawns, giant steamed fresh fish, stewed pork with mushrooms, meatballs in peppery soup, literally a giant platter of stirfried vegetables and also a huge dish of fried vegetable, omelette strips and fishcake beehoon.

Oooww!I want Chinese New Year to come now!In the meantime, white rice with a sunny-side-up egg dripped with dark soya sauce will do. Egg-yolk oozy please!Mmmm....