day seven: heritage
is your grandmother giving you all her jade pieces, so she can buy one that’s greener than the one she’s got; is sharing recipes with no details – agar-agar* can already; is hearing about her childhood stories for the 57th time and it still amazes you; is one day inheriting her collection of her horse racing guide books that she keeps in 3-year cycles.
“Come, eat” is an invitation; mostly heard from parents and grandparents. Visiting them, you will always be met with “have you eaten?” Followed by, “come, eat.”
“Come, eat” is an environment; sweaty in a smoky hawker centre in the Singapore muggy evening, drinking Tiger beer with ice, you and your friends dig into dishes filled with chilli and spice.
“Come, eat” is a celebration; a dinner party in Australia sharing a slice of my home city, my comfort food, my childhood, enter with me into that safe and familiar place as a migrant.
“Come, eat” is a conversation; silence, chatter, laughter, all at once.
*agar-agar – to estimate
Sunday, 30 June 2013, 1-5pm.