On Food: Lunar New Year is a time to count blessings and throw a dinner party

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Wednesday, January 21, 2004

On Food: Lunar New Year is a time to count blessings and throw a dinner party

By HSIAO-CHING CHOU
SEATTLE POST-INTELLIGENCER FOOD WRITER

The first Lunar New Year I celebrated away from home was bittersweet. I was sad that I couldn't be with my family, enjoying the requisite feast and frivolity, but excited because I was living in Denver, a city with a big enough Asian community that the shopping centers were decked out and the air was filled with a clanging, celebratory vibe.

So, this is what it's supposed to be like during New Year's, I said to myself in delight. Boxes of moon cakes, in all shapes and sizes, were stacked in columns in the markets, waiting to be purchased and given away as gifts of good wishes. I bought some moon cakes, filled with red bean paste, to send home.

The lion dancers and their entourage toured the main shopping center, setting off firecrackers in their wake. I was surrounded by Chinese people speaking Cantonese and Mandarin, plus Vietnamese, even Mexicans. I felt grown-up and very Chinese.

Lunar New Year is a holiday that still holds true to sentiment. I don't have to worry about blowing my bank account buying gifts for everyone. Instead, I get to spend the time considering my blessings and connecting with friends and loved ones -- and having a party.

Several years ago, I decided to start a tradition of hosting my own dinner party for the Lunar New Year. Seattle felt like it could be home and I had a circle of friends who I knew were in it for the long haul, and it was time to honor that.

I borrowed my dream kitchen and house from some friends, who, in exchange, were my most special guests. I cooked all day for a dozen people and we ate by candlelight. It was a dream, even though I was too exhausted to eat. I followed that example the next year at the same house with many of the same guests.

The twist was the subtext of introducing two friends who had been reluctant to contact each other on their own. I seated them together, fed them luscious food from land and sea, and now they're happily married.

Last year, since "I" had become "we," we decided to host dinner in our home. The tiny apartment living room cozily accommodated a banquet table for 10 with folding chairs, which is to say that once everyone sat down, they had to stay seated. Somehow, I managed to crank out a half-dozen dishes that we ate family-style.

The ultimate compliment came from my good friend, Robert, who is a chef. He watched as I prepared this meal and was impressed. "You're incredibly organized," he said. For a home cook who must suffer space and stove constraints, that's high praise from a professional.

Tomorrow is the eve of the Year of the Monkey. We will have a low-key dinner by ourselves, make a call home to wish my family prosperity, and bask in all the recent great news: a new nephew, my parents' much-anticipated retirement after 23 long years in the restaurant business, a new and bigger apartment and, of course, our engagement.

The big party will take place on Saturday. But, I'm breaking from cooking the typical Chinese banquet meal of roasted duck, steamed whole fish and numerous stir-fried and braised dishes. Instead, I'm going to take it easy on myself and host a seafood boil: one pot, maybe two, and newspapers on the dining table.

Silverware and cloth napkins will be optional.

P-I food writer Hsiao-Ching Chou can be reached at 206-448-8117 or hsiaochingchou@seattlepi.com.

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