Dishes from my second-to-last cooking class …
I was too busy in our last few days in Alexandria, VA to shed many tears. We’d only been given about a week of notice before we were leaving, and I not only had to pack up everything we’d accumulated in the last six months but I also felt the obligation to cook everything that remained in the fridges — there was one in the kitchen and one in the basement, both filled to the brim with food. I had ingredients for at least eight days worth of meals, and we only six nights left. I spent a good amount of my last week in the kitchen, teaching two final cooking classes, and then setting forth to cook everything. Partly of course it was because we needed to eat, but beyond that, I just felt some strange obligation to actually cook it all, even if we couldn’t eat it all.
My son, waiting for his pizza he’s made from scratch.
The sourdough discard scallion pancakes were the best version of these pancakes I've made: light and airy.
Among the dishes I made: pad thai, dan dan noodles, bok choy, burritos, pizza from scratch, sushi rolls and Japanese egg omlettes, scallion pancakes with sourdough discard, two last loaves of sourdough. There were also a lasagna bolognese and dumplings that I’d made a while ago and frozen — I defrosted them and served those to my family, too. And stuff my aunt had given me: Chinese fish balls, rice noodles, red beans. And then the things that would ultimately go to waste, cooking projects that would never come to fruition and made me sad thinking about them: an enormous half of a daikon and frozen chicken that I planned to make into chicken noodle soup, pork belly and fermented black beans that I’d wanted to use in twice-cooked pork. Thankfully some of my guests in my cooking classes offered to take some of my pantry ingredients off my hands - I hope they’ve found their way in the postal service to your home.
Sadder than having to abandon cooking projects was parting with my mom. My mother packed up her things and left a few days before we left — it was easier that way, especially because my in-laws were driving down to help see us off. We kept the good-bye as short as possible; she was going to stay at my aunt’s in Maryland, and when my aunt came to pick her up, I don’t even think the kids were there to give hugs or wave good-bye — there was the excuse that we’d drive to my aunt’s to see them before we left (which didn’t happen) but that’s kind of how we do things in Chinese families. Closure really isn’t necessary. And anyway, she said, she’s always only a video call away. I cried and my mother looked at me awkwardly; I knew that she’d probably cry sometime, but just not in my presence.
Ingredients and books, packed and sent away before we left …
I had carefully packed some cooked food for our journey — peanut-sesame noodles, leftover sushi, beef jerky, prosciutto — but when it came to leave, I was so overwhelmed with the volume of stuff we had to take to the airport already that I just gave it all to my mother-in-law. We would survive on bagels, granola bars, and airplane food for our journey. Along with all the other contents of our fridge, my in-laws would have enough to eat for a week, possibly longer. It was enough food that they cancelled their meal kit delivery service for the following week.
This was going to be our airplane food, but I gave it to my in-laws for their journey back to their home.
Before we left for the airport, I had a few moments in the kitchen by myself. It had served me well. It was where I’d started my online classes, back in May, which felt like a lifetime ago. There were some flaws to it. A huge crack ran through the center of the tiled floor. The sink was positioned right in the center of everything, which made it difficult for more than one person to work in the kitchen at a time, even though it was a large, airy space with a beautiful range, two ovens and a skylight ceilinged hallway with plenty of storage space and back counters. It was where I’d gotten my mojo back as a cook in the last few months, and every day between four to six o’clock in the afternoon, I was reliably in there, listening to podcasts and feeling productive, making something good for my family to eat during this terrible pandemic.
After I finally cleaned out the kitchen, packed our bags (which consisted of six checked bags, our skis, eight carry-ons, and two booster seats) we finally loaded up my in-laws’ minivan for the long journey. When we set off for the airport around 9pm on Tuesday, the skies looked threatening, an impending storm turning the sky a strange orange hue …