SUCH LIMITATIONS

Yesterday I bought bittermelon and fuzzy gourd in Chinatown. Which, to the knowing mind, suggests pork. And the knowing mind is right in this case. The bittermelon was cooked with yellow curry paste, green chili paste, a little fish sauce, and meatballs, and made a lovely main meal of the day.
I have no idea what I shall do with the nice green fuzzy gourd.
Might need to go into C'town again for some roast pork.

[Bitter melon: 苦瓜 ('fu gwaa'), 涼瓜 ('leung gwaa'); momordica charantia. Fuzzy gourd: 毛瓜 ('mou gwaa'), 節瓜 ('jit gwaa'); benincasa hispida.
Roast pork: 燒肉 ('siu yiuk').]


Along with baby mustard stalk (油菜 'yau choi'), these are my favourite vegetables. And probably unavailable in most of the country.


My mother, as Anglo in her tastes as anybody, would disapprove.


I learned how not to cook from her.


During my mother's childhood, food was not meant to be enjoyed; it was fuel and building blocks, that you ate because not doing so was in some ways self indulgent and decadent. And people were used to that attitude, and considered it right and proper.


I don't think I could have lived then.




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