Wash rice in rice cooker bowl.
Wash big chunks of lean meat and add to rice.
Coat both in oil and rub in some salt. Prepare at least an hour in advance.
Pour in boiling water. Optional: add dried scallops, lotus seeds.
Set rice cooker on congee setting.
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Thursday, 28 January 2010
Sunday, 18 October 2009
Super Gong Gong
Growing up, my Gong Gong (my Mum's Dad) seemed invincible. Now, I've observed him all my life and have come to suspect that he is, in fact, a Superhero. Here are a few clues:
Always looks the same
Gong Gong's wardrobe is perennial. He's always in the same outfit, immaculate and wrinkle free. In block colours, black, white, grey.
Gong Gong has always had exactly the same Clark Kent hair. Jet black. Not a hair out of place.
Standard one-liners
Whenever I'd ask him how he was, he'd say, "Ho! I fought off 7 tigers today!". Gong Gong's standard greeting is "Hello Sing Sarng, Singapore!" (less superheroic, but a classic one-liner, nevertheless.)
Superhuman strength & movement
Gong Gong is built and shaped like He-Man. His muscles were the density of thick linoleum. I used to give him massages, but my puny fingers were no match for his solid trapeziums. They couldn't even make a dent.
He is lightning fast with the abacus, faster than my Dad's super maths brain and me on a calculator. *Click Click Click*!
In Tai Chi, Gong Gong defies gravity! He can hold, balance and maneuver his full weight calmly, slowly, effortlessly, agilely and gracefully, at impossible angles.
Super powers
It's incredible that Gong Gong never had an education, but taught himself how to read Chinese characters by reading newspapers. Being really thrifty, he didn't buy newspapers, but read over people's shoulders, or picked up discarded editions. A few years ago, he learned English in his 70s, to pass his US citizenship's test. This probably means he has learned his village dialect, Khmer, Cantonese and English.
Gong Gong's throat must be made out of cast-iron because he can drain a bowl of piping hot congee (rice porridge) in two goes.
Olives to Gong Gong, is what Spinach is to Pop-eye. Gong Gong likes the Asian variety, where you'd chew the olive and spit out the fibres.
Gong Gong also has the uncanny ability to be able to sleep any where.
When his six children were young, Gong Gong also worked three jobs to save money to help his family flee the arch-villain, Pol Pot. Incredible!
Both my Gong Gong and Mama overcame adversity in extraordinary ways, but we'll save those miraculous stories for another episode.
Protector of the vulnerable & innocent
Whenever us kids got into trouble (often), he would stand in front of us, facing the oppressor of our efforts. His defense always came swiftly. We wouldn't even have to call out "Rescue me, Gong Gong!!", and he would come to our aid. It was one of the rare occasions when the gentle giant would raise his voice in conflict. And suddenly, our despair and humiliation would turn into joy and triumph, safely hiding behind this immovable mass. Go get 'em, Gong Gong!
Timely arrival
Gong Gong would be able to find the time to look after us for long hours on Sunday afternoon, when the parentals were in meetings. Gong Gong'd pick us up from choirs, always ready and waiting, chewing on some olives and reading a newspaper. Basically, he's always there when you need him!
If there ever was a Superhero to come out of his home town, it would be my Gong Gong. But when my sister last visited my grandparents in June, she observed that he was literally about half his size, gaunt and weakened by years of cardiac complications. A few steps would take away Gong Gong's breath...
------------------
This post has been sitting in my "ideas" box since my sister's visit. And this morning we heard that Gong Gong is in ICU. If he doesn't wake up within 24 hours, he may never. His heart may have failed him for the last time.
Not sure how this episode is going to end and this cliffhanger has made me bawl. But I'm so glad that Gong Gong has a living hope (rare for a man in his generation). And that Jesus, the true and Immortal Saviour, is good for his word.
Always looks the same
Gong Gong's wardrobe is perennial. He's always in the same outfit, immaculate and wrinkle free. In block colours, black, white, grey.
Gong Gong has always had exactly the same Clark Kent hair. Jet black. Not a hair out of place.
Standard one-liners
Whenever I'd ask him how he was, he'd say, "Ho! I fought off 7 tigers today!". Gong Gong's standard greeting is "Hello Sing Sarng, Singapore!" (less superheroic, but a classic one-liner, nevertheless.)
Superhuman strength & movement
Gong Gong is built and shaped like He-Man. His muscles were the density of thick linoleum. I used to give him massages, but my puny fingers were no match for his solid trapeziums. They couldn't even make a dent.
He is lightning fast with the abacus, faster than my Dad's super maths brain and me on a calculator. *Click Click Click*!
In Tai Chi, Gong Gong defies gravity! He can hold, balance and maneuver his full weight calmly, slowly, effortlessly, agilely and gracefully, at impossible angles.
Super powers
It's incredible that Gong Gong never had an education, but taught himself how to read Chinese characters by reading newspapers. Being really thrifty, he didn't buy newspapers, but read over people's shoulders, or picked up discarded editions. A few years ago, he learned English in his 70s, to pass his US citizenship's test. This probably means he has learned his village dialect, Khmer, Cantonese and English.
Gong Gong's throat must be made out of cast-iron because he can drain a bowl of piping hot congee (rice porridge) in two goes.
Olives to Gong Gong, is what Spinach is to Pop-eye. Gong Gong likes the Asian variety, where you'd chew the olive and spit out the fibres.
Gong Gong also has the uncanny ability to be able to sleep any where.
When his six children were young, Gong Gong also worked three jobs to save money to help his family flee the arch-villain, Pol Pot. Incredible!
Both my Gong Gong and Mama overcame adversity in extraordinary ways, but we'll save those miraculous stories for another episode.
Protector of the vulnerable & innocent
Whenever us kids got into trouble (often), he would stand in front of us, facing the oppressor of our efforts. His defense always came swiftly. We wouldn't even have to call out "Rescue me, Gong Gong!!", and he would come to our aid. It was one of the rare occasions when the gentle giant would raise his voice in conflict. And suddenly, our despair and humiliation would turn into joy and triumph, safely hiding behind this immovable mass. Go get 'em, Gong Gong!
Timely arrival
Gong Gong would be able to find the time to look after us for long hours on Sunday afternoon, when the parentals were in meetings. Gong Gong'd pick us up from choirs, always ready and waiting, chewing on some olives and reading a newspaper. Basically, he's always there when you need him!
If there ever was a Superhero to come out of his home town, it would be my Gong Gong. But when my sister last visited my grandparents in June, she observed that he was literally about half his size, gaunt and weakened by years of cardiac complications. A few steps would take away Gong Gong's breath...
------------------
This post has been sitting in my "ideas" box since my sister's visit. And this morning we heard that Gong Gong is in ICU. If he doesn't wake up within 24 hours, he may never. His heart may have failed him for the last time.
Not sure how this episode is going to end and this cliffhanger has made me bawl. But I'm so glad that Gong Gong has a living hope (rare for a man in his generation). And that Jesus, the true and Immortal Saviour, is good for his word.
But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body, by the power that enables him even to subject all things to himself.
~ Phil 3:20-21
Monday, 2 June 2008
Mah-mee
This, this, this, this and that post made me think of my Mama. My Mother has always appeared in my ever-changing testimony, because she has been the prime shaper of my life.
Early memories consist of Mum teaching us very patiently, instilling in us strong senses of principles, rightness and other-person-centeredness. When we'd talk about everyday events, people, things, Mum would draw our attention to all the good, the adorable, the true. Whether it's flowers ("Look! Look!... ai yor ~ so many colours!" ) or kindness ("See, Daddy lets you have the bigger piece because he loves you"). In ourselves and others, character and conduct are more important than fashion and fanfare. Mum appreciates the hand of God in the little and big things. Counter-culturally, Mum encouraged us to be distinct, rather than conform, because Christian faith is so alien to the world. She would never blind us to society's evils, but tried to equip us for it. (Ask me about Mum's "stranger danger" preparation!).
I'm very grateful for the discipline we had. Reinforcement, fairness and following-through. Punishments for misdemeanors were very consistent (She'd ask "How many smacks does that deserve?". If we said "two" when it was actually three, she'd ask "Really?" and we'd concede. Both parties knew that 3 smacks are a comin'.). We were rarely indulged. If we sulked or were sobbing out of control, Mum would warn us, count to 3, inflict a smack and wait for us to control ourselves ~ Repeat, as needed. This takes a lot of patience and tenacity. If Mum has set rules, no amount of coercion, cuteness or begging would budge them. We are far from perfect now, but I'm so grateful as a Christian that Mum broke our autonomous spirit; it's far easier to submit to a Heavenly Father when we already submit to an earthly parent. The level of discipline would be considered stern in Australian society. But I consider it quite fair and aspire to bring up my children similarly. I lose respect for both the children throwing a tantrum in the supermarket aisle over cereal flavors and the passive parent looking on hopelessly.
Mum treats her children far more generously than herself. Her actions and priorities are marked by sacrifice and considerateness. If anyone would miss out, lose sleep, go last, have the dregs, be left in the kitchen, carry the heaviest load, it's Mum. Habitually, Mum sweeps through household chores so we'd be freed up to study. Even if her calloused hands has a cut, she'd continue single-handedly before interrupting your work. My parents swapped a very comfortable existence in Hong Kong for a very difficult and foreign one in Australia, which gave us opportunities and freedoms.
Mum is in her element in times of strife. If you're in trouble, you may or may not receive sympathetic words and fussing. But come to Mum for strength, time-tested wisdom, practical help and words spoken in plain truth. She'll do the right thing by you, whether you ask for it or not! I sometimes find evidence of generous donations to ministers or missionaries, but she would not tell us about her giving. Both Mum and Dad taught us to manage money, but they would never burden us with financial difficulties, even though our family must have had significant financial issues. Mum doesn't whinge or wallow in self-pity, but bears pain and difficulties with grace and fortitude without fuss. The observant may catch her in acts of quiet service.
Mum loves fun and her family. She treasures each person and sees times and opportunities as precious. Mum would save up treats to have together, one for everyone, so no one would miss out or eat greedily, leaving none for others. Mum maintained our family's prayer life. After reading the Bible or recapping events on my parents' bed, the youngest to the oldest take turns praying for something every night.
For the extended family reunion in 2001, Mum planned for years, literally. When our relatives arrived, nothing was unforeseen, lacking or done poorly. Mum catered to the needs of our relatives, provided more than enough and anticipated problems three steps before they occurred. My aunts were laughing and weeping as Mum recounted stories from their difficult and poverty-stricken childhood. There's a string of strong woman on my mother's side.
Mum modeled the importance of being ministry-minded, in migration, in school, in the home. For many years we had an open-house policy. When we bought a new house, Mum had in mind dimensions to accommodate church groups for dinners, Bible studies. My Mum could quickly knock up extra food for unexpected visitors. Bags of clothes, cut flower, shopping, food and household goods stood by the door, waiting for Mum to deliver them. I used to resentfully think I shared my Mum with everyone else.
A friend commented that Mother-daughter relationship is one of the most significant in life. Amen. Amen. I can see her influence in my everyday ethics and career choice (even though she discouraged me from entering ministry vocationally!). The relationship has its share of friction and disagreements, but there is no substitute.
Recently, I had an Anne of Green Gables / Jo March moment. I was joking with a friend about my first book, entitled, "Contraband: Absinthe, Bibles, Cigars". But he protested, "You should write about your family!" after listening to me prattle on about the amazing women and events in my family. The unmistakable figure that dominates the picture is my Mother.
Early memories consist of Mum teaching us very patiently, instilling in us strong senses of principles, rightness and other-person-centeredness. When we'd talk about everyday events, people, things, Mum would draw our attention to all the good, the adorable, the true. Whether it's flowers ("Look! Look!... ai yor ~ so many colours!" ) or kindness ("See, Daddy lets you have the bigger piece because he loves you"). In ourselves and others, character and conduct are more important than fashion and fanfare. Mum appreciates the hand of God in the little and big things. Counter-culturally, Mum encouraged us to be distinct, rather than conform, because Christian faith is so alien to the world. She would never blind us to society's evils, but tried to equip us for it. (Ask me about Mum's "stranger danger" preparation!).
I'm very grateful for the discipline we had. Reinforcement, fairness and following-through. Punishments for misdemeanors were very consistent (She'd ask "How many smacks does that deserve?". If we said "two" when it was actually three, she'd ask "Really?" and we'd concede. Both parties knew that 3 smacks are a comin'.). We were rarely indulged. If we sulked or were sobbing out of control, Mum would warn us, count to 3, inflict a smack and wait for us to control ourselves ~ Repeat, as needed. This takes a lot of patience and tenacity. If Mum has set rules, no amount of coercion, cuteness or begging would budge them. We are far from perfect now, but I'm so grateful as a Christian that Mum broke our autonomous spirit; it's far easier to submit to a Heavenly Father when we already submit to an earthly parent. The level of discipline would be considered stern in Australian society. But I consider it quite fair and aspire to bring up my children similarly. I lose respect for both the children throwing a tantrum in the supermarket aisle over cereal flavors and the passive parent looking on hopelessly.
Mum treats her children far more generously than herself. Her actions and priorities are marked by sacrifice and considerateness. If anyone would miss out, lose sleep, go last, have the dregs, be left in the kitchen, carry the heaviest load, it's Mum. Habitually, Mum sweeps through household chores so we'd be freed up to study. Even if her calloused hands has a cut, she'd continue single-handedly before interrupting your work. My parents swapped a very comfortable existence in Hong Kong for a very difficult and foreign one in Australia, which gave us opportunities and freedoms.
Mum is in her element in times of strife. If you're in trouble, you may or may not receive sympathetic words and fussing. But come to Mum for strength, time-tested wisdom, practical help and words spoken in plain truth. She'll do the right thing by you, whether you ask for it or not! I sometimes find evidence of generous donations to ministers or missionaries, but she would not tell us about her giving. Both Mum and Dad taught us to manage money, but they would never burden us with financial difficulties, even though our family must have had significant financial issues. Mum doesn't whinge or wallow in self-pity, but bears pain and difficulties with grace and fortitude without fuss. The observant may catch her in acts of quiet service.
Mum loves fun and her family. She treasures each person and sees times and opportunities as precious. Mum would save up treats to have together, one for everyone, so no one would miss out or eat greedily, leaving none for others. Mum maintained our family's prayer life. After reading the Bible or recapping events on my parents' bed, the youngest to the oldest take turns praying for something every night.
For the extended family reunion in 2001, Mum planned for years, literally. When our relatives arrived, nothing was unforeseen, lacking or done poorly. Mum catered to the needs of our relatives, provided more than enough and anticipated problems three steps before they occurred. My aunts were laughing and weeping as Mum recounted stories from their difficult and poverty-stricken childhood. There's a string of strong woman on my mother's side.
Mum modeled the importance of being ministry-minded, in migration, in school, in the home. For many years we had an open-house policy. When we bought a new house, Mum had in mind dimensions to accommodate church groups for dinners, Bible studies. My Mum could quickly knock up extra food for unexpected visitors. Bags of clothes, cut flower, shopping, food and household goods stood by the door, waiting for Mum to deliver them. I used to resentfully think I shared my Mum with everyone else.
A friend commented that Mother-daughter relationship is one of the most significant in life. Amen. Amen. I can see her influence in my everyday ethics and career choice (even though she discouraged me from entering ministry vocationally!). The relationship has its share of friction and disagreements, but there is no substitute.
Recently, I had an Anne of Green Gables / Jo March moment. I was joking with a friend about my first book, entitled, "Contraband: Absinthe, Bibles, Cigars". But he protested, "You should write about your family!" after listening to me prattle on about the amazing women and events in my family. The unmistakable figure that dominates the picture is my Mother.
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