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It’s been a new experience this trip to Hong Kong, getting to know my family that loves, breathes, and could only imagine living in HK. It takes me a few trips to the same place or at least a total of a month’s worth of days to feel like I know even a small part of a place.  My entire father’s side lives here. On my 5th trip here, they finally acknowledge me as a real Chinese person and not just this American that pretends once in a while. Their test: you must love to eat (and appreciate the thousand-year-old egg). When I’m in town, their weekly extended family dinner dates ends up being daily make-it-if-you-can dates.

Their friend circles know when I’m arriving. I’m like that mutt that must be shown the ways and taught the food and culture of Cantonese people. My palate must know what is the best. I have since decided the Instagramable things and reviews online by Westerners have missed some of the best foods this place has to offer (including the people that give away constellations). On this trip, the universe granted me an amazing opportunity to learn how to make dim sum. Usually, dim sum masters don’t trade secrets and definitely don’t let you into their kitchen. I want to preserve some knowledge of my dna’s food culture and incorporate that into my own expression of baking. A plead for knowledge, promise to keep our craft alive, and being the niece of an uncle who loves to eat convinced them to allow me in their kitchen.

Another unique identity of my people comes with addressing women as “beautiful lady” and men as “beautiful gents.” Age doesn’t affect whether you are beautiful or not. I asked my father how you know if they were speaking to you or the person next to you. His response: “You just know.” Fair enough. I’m turning my head every time.

The parks here are exceptionally beautiful.

They also really love their cell phones.

Who doesn’t like a properly made 蝦餃? 🦐