Mi2Sweets – The Hostess

01/01: The Hostess

Her cooking was at times inconsistent–the stew a little bland, the Chinese baked tapioca with red bean paste on the burnt side. But that really didn’t matter. My Aunt Christina knew how to entertain. She was a hostess with style, putting out her best silver and china to make even our hodge podge family potluck dinners look elegant, the first one to display the obligatory black olives, ranch dressing, carrot and celery sticks in a flight of fancy crudite bowls. My aunt’s been battling terminal cancer for a while now and the thought of her never hosting another family gathering has made me appreciate her incomparable skills even more.

We are, like alot of large Chinese families, a loud boisterous bunch spread out across the Bay Area and beyond. It takes more than a few phone calls, emails, cajoling and arm-twisting to coordinate a party these days. Not so when I was young. We used to get together every few weeks for dinner, sometimes a dim sum lunch. Of course back then both of my grandparents were alive and they were the ones who anchored us to certain family traditions, like a dozen rounds of mah jong before dinner or making steamed dumplings, which was always a group effort for a family our size. My mom and her siblings would take turns hosting, but it was my Aunt Christina always managed to make it look so effortless and polished, as opposed to the comfortable chaos that characterized our house.

Hands down, mom was, in her prime, a better cook. However, Aunt Christina knew how to make it look good. Beverages and ice were always set out along with assorted glassware and crystal bowls of potato chips and other snacks. At our house, we just expected everyone to get their own glass from the cupboard and help themselves to what was in the frig. or bust into the bags of chips and crackers.

As time went on, with my grandfrather gone and my grandmother getting frailer by the year, family parties were few and far between, taking place mainly on Chinese New Year, Thanksgiving and Christmas. I became the designated chef on Thanksgiving and Christmas–apparently my having a culinary degree negated everybody else’s ability to cook a turkey or rack of lamb. My aunt was thrilled to offer up her home for the festivities, especially when she could pull out all her good china, silver platters and serving utensils. Just like it was when I little, the party was a stylish affair.

More than anything, my aunt knew the value of making people feel comfortable and taken care of. Her desire to maintain a semblance of family tradition–she still set up the mah jong table–was the glue that keep us together. I’m deeply saddened at the inevitable lost of this loving family anchor.

Posted January 1st, 2009

Comments are closed.