After that scrumptious breakfast at Bollywood Veggies, I met up with my family for a late lunch at my older sister's new flat (apartment). The place was a slick, modern condo with 24/7 security. And they meant security. A watchful guard stopped us at the gateway as we drove up. Then after we walked past the flowing water feature wall (very harmonious Feng Shui), a doorman greeted my brother-in-law by name at the lift lobby. The rest of us were scrutinised, our faces dully memorised for future reference. The place was like a fortress!
We were greeted at the door to the flat by my older sister and her son. They were delighted to see us because now that the family was all present, lunch could finally start.
My sister had organised steamboat for our family reunion. Known also as the Chinese hot pot (translated literally as “fire pot”), this traditional cooking method has been around for over a thousand years. There’s some debate over this, but most food historians say that it dates back to the Greater Jin Dynasty in China (1115–1234 A.D.)
In those days, Mongolian horsemen travelling into China would be tired and hungry at the end of the day. When they made a makeshift camp, they would cook in their helmets over open fires, adding different types of meat and vegetables to a clear soup. In winter, the warmth of the nourishing broth would allow them to spend long hours together as they shared the meal.
My sister's electric hot pot was a large stainless steel vessel, with the soup stock boiled in a deep bowl. While the hot pot simmered, a variety of ingredients like thinly sliced beef, chicken and pork, Chinese white cabbage, shiitake mushrooms, tofu, fish and prawns, were all cooked at the table.
There is certain etiquette in sharing a steamboat or hot pot meal. As this was a communal affair, it was essential to:
Cook in turns
Use chopsticks to put in the ingredients into the hot pot ladles and lift it out when they’re cooked
Keep track of your food and eat what you’ve put in the bowl
Dunk the wire ladles into the broth and gently swish it around to ensure that it cooks through (try not to lose it in the simmering broth)
Dip your cooked food into the sauces before eating.
The meal was served with steamed jasmine rice and we enjoyed the Korean-inspired spicy dipping sauce made by my younger sister. Near the end of the meal, my brother-in-law broke a raw egg into his ladle and poached it in the thickening broth. My elder sister tossed the last of the cabbage into the bowl. Those who still had room in their stomachs finished off the meal with a small bowl of the fragrant, meaty broth.
My younger sister used the remainder of the broth as the base for a rich fish congee (rice porridge). My cousin and I had it for lunch the next day. It was a simple but wonderful feast.