"Cold Mix" Tofu

My mom has always been known as the best cook - on both sides of the family. She can whip up mouth watering dishes to feed 10, 15, 20 people in an hour. She has three pans going at a time while chopping and still manages to talk the whole time. She works magic. I grew up not appreciating how lucky I was to be able to eat her food. I wanted "their" food, "American" food. I wished for hamburgers, meatloaf (what was I thinking???), and fries or at least some form of potato that wasn't cut up and stir fried. I was delighted when we would take trips to McDonalds or when my dad would give me frozen tv dinners.It wasn't until I left home that I started to miss and crave my mom's delicious home cooking. 

My mom and I had a hard relationship growing up. I am of mixed descent and wanted to pass, to be the same as everyone else as much as possible. My parents' accents and my Asian mom made that hard. We argued a lot, both of us stubborn and opinionated. But through her food, her cooking and caring, she showed her love. My mom loves through cooking. Her dishes have served more than our family. Our house was a refuge for other immigrant folks here without family. We always held large holiday gatherings where other immigrant friends would gather to eat together, sing karaoke, share stories and laugh. My mom built community. She created family - building new bonds with others whose family ties were across the ocean as well. Her food fed the soul. 

I have learned how to care through food, through nourishment, through meal time gatherings from her. I still don't have her skill - my salt balance isn't on point, my stir fry is usually over done. I hope to learn at least part of her skill. But I think more importantly I have learned her heart.