妈妈的年夜饭：“且享且珍惜” Homemade Spring Festival foods are treasures

It was during Chinese New Year several years ago when I discovered just how ambrosial tofu really could be. 多年前的一个春节，我才真正感受到豆腐无与伦比的美味。 As a longtime vegan, I’ve purchased and consumed hundreds, if not thousands, of packages of bean curd to grant me a certain expertise in the food. But nothing could have prepared me for the moment when I bit into that homemade fried tofu fresh from the wok. The crisp, golden surface gave way to a surprisingly rich, buttery flavor that elevated this humble food to the highlight of the evening’s dinner. 长久以来我一直是名素食主义者，吃过的豆腐，没有成百，也有上千，我自认为这足够让我成为豆制品专家。但当我的味蕾触到了自家新鲜出炉，热气腾腾的炸豆腐时，它金黄酥脆的外壳，及其蕴含的丰润口感还是让我惊喜万分。它带着黄油的余味，正是这余味把原本平凡无奇的豆腐变成了晚饭时当之无愧的“明星”菜品。 But that moment was the culmination of days of work by my mother-in-law from rural Hangzhou, who also prepared the tofu she had fried from scratch. 我的婆婆来自杭州乡下，这道“炸豆腐”从原材料准备到最后炸制都是她的杰作。 One afternoon, I followed the billows of steam from her kitchen and found her pouring a milky hot liquid through a straining basket, filtering out the bean curds that would eventually turn into more white blocks of tofu, just like those neatly stacked in the tray behind her. Yet the process yielded other delights as well. She ladled out a bowl of that filtered liquid from the metal pan resting on the floor, added a sprinkle of sugar, and offered it to me as soymilk. It was creamier and more fragrant than anything I had tasted in China or the US, where I’m from. 一天下午，我循着厨房中飘出的腾腾热气，发现婆婆正在往滤网内倒还冒着热气的奶白色生豆浆，滤网滤掉了豆渣，豆渣最终变成一块块的豆腐，它们都整齐地堆放在婆婆身后的盘子里。制作豆腐的过程还别有一番乐趣。婆婆从地上的金属锅中舀了一碗过滤后的生豆浆，撒了些糖后就变成了豆浆，她端给我尝。无论是在从小长大的美国，还是在中国，我都从未喝过如此喷香顺滑的东西。 This experience left such an impression on me that now, whenever my mother-in-law starts making tofu, I know the holidays have arrived. 从此以后，一看到婆婆开始做豆腐，我就知道假期已经开始了。 I could say the same about many other traditional Chinese New Year foods from her kitchen, such as dongmitang -- sweet and crunchy puffed rice squares often flecked with black sesame seeds -- and those savory rice turnovers stuffed with salted bamboo shoots, pickled greens and tofu that we call migu in the local dialect. 婆婆的春节大餐里还有许多别的美食，其中有冻米糖（一种香甜酥脆的膨化米制品，四四方方，表面常嵌有芝麻粒），还有一种美味的大米馅饼，其馅料包括腌制的竹笋和蔬菜，以及豆腐，在当地我们叫它“米谷”（migu）。 To me, these are the real holiday treasures, far more than the lavish golden pyramids of Ferrero Rocher chocolates or top-shelf French wines pushed upon us by an endless stream of commercials for Chinese New Year. 对我而言，这些才是春节的意义所在，而不是那些金灿灿，堆积如山的费列罗巧克力，也不是名贵的法国红酒，更不是买不完的年货。 I should know, because I missed out on a precious holiday food when I was growing up. Every December my mother used to layer honey and chopped nuts with paper-thin sheets of phyllo dough to bake her annual Christmas baklava. But I was such a finicky eater, not trying even a single piece for fear I wouldn’t like it. She passed away when I was 17, years before I would finally discover how delicious baklava really was and mourn the loss of her work. 我明白这些，是因为我在成长的过程中错过了一道宝贵的假日美食。从前，每年十二月，我妈妈都会把擀得像纸一样薄的酥皮，蜂蜜和碎坚果依次堆叠起来，烤成圣诞果仁蜜饼（Baklava）。但我当时嘴巴很刁，担心不合我的口味，索性一口也不愿碰。她在我17岁时去世了。很多年后，我才终于知道果仁蜜饼有多好吃，才开始痛心子欲“尝”而亲不待。 My husband and I like to say his mother’s holiday foods are a kind of intangible cultural heritage for the family – and I’m determined not to let something like that slip away again. 我和我丈夫都说，婆婆做的菜是家里的非物质文化遗产。这次，我不会再辜负如此美食。 I hope to learn my mother-in-law’s recipes. And someday, perhaps someone else will be peering into my kitchen during Chinese New Year, marveling at the wonder of making tofu from scratch. 我希望能跟着婆婆学习做豆腐的秘诀。或许某个新年，也会有人到厨房看我做饭，赞叹着做豆腐的奇妙。