mental manifestations

When I first moved out of the dorms and into my apartment, I suddenly became responsible for feeding myself. That was when I started to learn how to cook. Just a few months after moving in, I decided that it would be kind of neat to throw a dinner party for a bunch of friends I had met in the dorms. One of the reasons for doing so was to have a small reunion at the beginning of the school year. Another reason was to have a housewarming party for me and my roommates. The last reason was to see if I could actually cook for a large group of people.

The whole idea of cooking for a dinner party came from my mom who would cook oodles and oodles of food for my extended family whenever we would gather together for birthday parties or holiday celebrations. My mom had always started cooking in the morning. I tried to start as early as I could (as class would allow), and I spent a few hours over the stove just preparing and cooking everything. I had some help too in making some of the dishes, but the whole process from start to finish required constant attention. I had lots of things being done in parallel.

Eventually, I managed to get everything done not too long after the last few guests showed up. I certainly had a greater appreciation all those years when my mom cooked food for everyone. She used to make many different types of dishes and for a lot more people than I had at my party. That night was a pretty substantial group of people to cook for by myself even with the help I received.

During the later months, my roommates and I would occassionally have smaller groups of people (thereby making the amount of cooking more manageable) plus we had become slightly better in our methods of preparation and cooking. I have always wondered what it would be like to be a chef and work in a restaurant. From what I’ve read and seen, the restaurant industry appears extremely demanding. The night I had my dinner party gave me a small inkling of what it was like to do that.

Our family sits in a new restaurant, one we had never been to before. It was originally located in Chinatown under the name New Shanghai; now it’s located in a suburb called Wellesley just off of Route 9 bearing the name CK Shanghai. Aside from the employees, there are almost no other Chinese people. The ones I saw earlier have left, and the mass of people at the entrance continue to grow due to lack of waiting space.

Employees bustle about delivering dishes to tables, taking orders, retrieving empty plates, and refilling glasses. I take a sip of my water while eyeing the environment. The yellow wallpaper, the hanging ceiling lights, and the small bar make me feel like I’m in a different restaurant. The decor doesn’t feel typical for a Chinese restaurant, at least not the ones I’ve been to, but the random Oriental adornments around the wall make up for the contemporary look.

I place my napkin on my lap, and set my chopsticks in hand. The first set of dishes arrive at our table. My family digs in to the food. Chopsticks reach across the table. Plates are passed to help gather food into a meal. A communal sharing of what lies before us. This is the way Chinese people eat. This is what “family style” eating is.

I make a quick glance to the neighbouring tables. The people on my left are talking about colleges with some mention of MIT and patents. The two tables to our right keep staring in our direction. I don’t know if they’re staring at us, our food, or at something else. Paranoia sets in. I keep my head focused on my plate to ignore them, yet all I can think about is how delicious the food is.

More dishes arrive. People at the big, round table on our right continue to look at us with an alien expression. To me, the way everyone else is eating is foreign. They are ordering single dishes as their own. Eating real Chinese cuisine isn’t like the single-serving combo that you get at the small, dirty-looking, local place on the corner where you go when you’re too lazy to cook. To them, the way we eat is different despite the fact that this is normal, instinctive, and second nature for us.

That’s not to say that people couldn’t order their own dishes like they typically would in other restaurants. They just don’t get any real perspective of what Chinese food culture is like. I’m not saying it’s bad that non-Chinese people are eating Chinese food. Everyone is just oblivious as to how Chinese people eat, but restaurants won’t tell you that. My point is just that food is more than just what’s on the table in front of you. It’s how you eat it that also counts.