Natalie Tan's Book of Luck and Fortune(27)

I disappeared into the kitchen with lightness in my steps to refill the pot of tea. The joy the musician felt for my beloved record player was infectious. Minutes later, he had chosen La traviata. I grinned at his romantic choice.

Tomorrow, I would cook the chicken wings and help the Chius solve their own love dilemma.





Chapter Ten





The recipe dictated that the chicken be marinated in the morning and served in the afternoon or evening of the same day.





Drunken Chicken Wings



Garlic

Five-spice powder

Peppercorns

Chilies

Paprika

Chicken wings

Shaoxing wine


Smash the garlic cloves before adding them to a bowl with the rest of the spices. Massage the seasonings into the chicken wings before adding to the wine.

Cover.

Marinate for three hours to encourage new love and six hours to rekindle a love gone sour. Do not marinate for longer than eight hours.

Finish by deep-frying.



Note:

Love and inebriation produce the same effects: bouts of joy and impaired decision making. I am approached often by lovers to help solve their problems. I try my best, knowing that meddling in the affairs of the heart can lead to interesting situations.

I combined garlic, five-spice, black peppercorns, Thai chilies, and paprika in a large bowl for the seasoning. I tumbled two pounds of chicken wings out of their brown paper wrapping and into the waiting bowl, where I kneaded the pungent mixture into them, squeezing the spices into the meat like an experienced massage therapist. Another bowl full of Shaoxing rice wine awaited the wings as the next step after their rigorous massage. They soaked and relaxed, basking in the pool of wine to become drunken like their name. I set them aside to marinate in the fridge.

I called up the Chius to invite them for a snack. Mr. Chiu promised to come by at two with his wife. As I thought of the couple, my mind wandered to another dormant subject with painful memories: my father. If Mr. Kuk Wah was determined to fix his marriage, why didn’t my father want to save his? Why had he left us?

I’d watched Ma-ma raising me alone and wondered if things would have been different if my father were around. Perhaps if he had been there, Ma-ma would not have had all those dark spells or the hours she’d spent miles away in her mind while her eyes remained hollow and empty. I’d been so helpless when Ma-ma suffered those debilitating episodes. I’d done what I could by running to the restaurant to pay for food, even when I was so young I could barely reach the counter, but I couldn’t talk to her about things the way another adult—a partner—could have.

If my father had been there, maybe Ma-ma’s demons wouldn’t have controlled her. He could have saved my mother’s life when I wasn’t there.

Perhaps, I mused, I had transferred my potent wrath for my father onto the neighbors. It was easier to have active targets than a missing one.

Yes, life could have been different, but hoping for these possibilities was akin to catching sunlight in a butterfly net. Like my father, my mother would never return. I had no choice but to turn my eyes to the future. Mr. Kuk Wah could still change his fortunes, and, with my help, so could the rest of the neighbors.

I heated up the oil in the wok and waited until it reached temperature.

What magical results would Laolao’s drunken chicken wings bring?

The side dish for the drunken chicken wings was a pickled slaw. This was my recipe and something I had picked up from my travels in Vietnam. I julienned carrots and daikon radish, dancing my knife across the wooden block, tapping until the vegetables turned into perfect matchsticks. I added ribbons of napa cabbage and romaine lettuce before drizzling a light dressing of white vinegar and sugar on top. I tossed the medley until the sweet tanginess enveloped all the contents.

Once the slaw was done, I checked the wok with its refined peanut oil. When it was heated, I tossed the wings into the liquid depths, sending the oil roaring with their entrance. I scooped them out with my golden net only moments later.

After tasting the first portion and deeming it perfect, I tossed more of the wings into the wok to have them emerge crispy and fried to perfection. Soon, the two-pound batch of drunken chicken wings rested on a rack. I divided the portion with a pair of stainless tongs for each of the couple’s plates, arranging them alongside a generous heap of colorful slaw.

The Chius needed help. I couldn’t bear watching their marriage break down. As much as I didn’t want to care for them, I couldn’t deny that I was starting to see the neighbors as individuals instead of a faceless mob. I wasn’t the misanthrope that I’d thought myself to be; I didn’t have that luxury now that my fate was tied to theirs.

The bell at the front door of the restaurant signaled the arrival of the Chius. I washed my hands and popped out of the kitchen to welcome them. Mr. Chiu stood a step behind his wife with a wistful expression on his face. Mrs. Chiu busied herself with examining the statue of the goddess.

“I remember a time when Guanyin was radiant,” she said in a hushed tone. To my surprise and to his, she turned to her husband. “Do you remember, Wayne?”

He cleared his throat. “Of course. We had our first date here and she was on the counter. How could I forget?”

She turned to me, brushing his comment aside. “I can’t stay for long. I have appointments this afternoon. It was kind of you to invite us for a snack.”